


7 Deadly Ass(as)sins

by teacuphuman



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, M/M, Masterbation, inapropriate workplace behavior, sex paraphernalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: Bane and Barsad own a sex shop and John needs a job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Total crack, people. I make no apologies. Tags will be updated as we go.
> 
> Special thanks to Involuntary Orange for the title, and [marouin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/marourin/works), [oceaxe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe/works), [amysnotdeadyet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd), and [youcantsaymylastname](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantsaymylastname/pseuds/youcantsaymylastname) for all the enabling!

It’s Bruce who finds the ad. He tapes it to the coffee machine to ensure John will see it. John snorts when he reads it, then balls it up and throws it in the recycling. He doesn’t think about it again until Bruce comes home and thrusts the crumpled newspaper in his face.

 

“I’m assuming you threw this out because you took in your resume,” Bruce says.

 

“Do you mind, I’m trying to win a race,” John grumbles, shoving Bruce out of his way. It doesn’t work; Bruce is deceptively solid and stubborn as fuck. 

 

He grabs the controller out of John’s hand and tosses it onto the couch, crouching so he’s right in John’s face.

 

“Either get a job, or quit bitching about not having a job,” Bruce says, slow and loud.

 

John launches into him, knocking Bruce off balance and sending him sprawling across the floor. When Bruce’s head hits the hardwood and not the coffee table, John is thankful they broke it wrestling last week. He grunts when Bruce punches him in the side, sliding out and over him to pin John to the floor.

 

“Why do you even try?” Bruce asks, barely breathing hard. “You never win.”

 

“I have my pride.” John tells him, letting out a high-pitched giggle when Bruce jams his fingers into John’s armpit.

 

“Do you?” Bruce laughs.

 

“Fuck off,” John pants, going limp. “I can’t work there.”

 

“Why not? You need a job, they have a job.” Bruce rolls of him and picks the controller up, restarting the game.

 

“It’s a sex shop. I can’t work there.”

 

“You like sex, you like work. Still not seeing the problem.” Bruce scrunches his nose at the screen. He’s shit at video games, a trait John finds endearing.

 

“I know that you know what shop that is. We’ve been in there,” John says, rolling onto his back.

 

Bruce grins. “I remember.”

 

“Oh, fuck you, okay? You’re an asshole.” John kicks him but Bruce only laughs.

 

“Are you referring to the time you pitched a tent in the middle of the shop? It’s a sex shop, I’m sure you’re not the first person to do that. You can put it under special skills on your resume.”

 

John groans and covers his face with his hands. It’s not the boner he’s embarrassed by, it’s how he got it. Bruce had dragged him in there one night when they were shit-faced, because he needed- well, John doesn’t want to think too much about what Bruce needed. Being his roommate was bad enough without knowing which imported, organic lube the bastard used to jerk off with. Bruce was like a fucking machine. Literally. A different girl every few days, John always left smiling awkwardly at them in the morning when they made their walk of shame through the apartment. And John was always awake, he made sure of it. He’d lost too many personal items to let random women wander unattended through their apartment.

 

“I doubt they remember you,” Bruce offers.

 

“Really? Did they look like the type of guys who ever forget a face?”

 

“No, not really.” Bruce laughs, still struggling to make his go kart drive on a straight path.

 

“Exactly. They’re not going to give a job to a guy took one look at a display and practically came in his pants.”

 

“Those are you words, not mine. Remember that when I repeat them to others later.”

 

“Ugh,” John groans into his hands. “I need a job.”

 

“You don’t actually, but I don’t want to have that argument again. You broke my watch last time.” Bruce frowns and throws down that controller.

 

“ _ You _ broke your watch. And I can’t let you pay my way, Bruce. That’s not fair.”

 

“You threw a mug at my face.” Bruce glares at him.

 

“And if you hadn’t blocked it, your watch would be fine.” John rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s just until you find another job, John. I’m not going to be your sugar daddy.”

 

“Gross. And what if I don’t find a job in my field for months? I need something to cover rent, at least.” He sits up, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. Until last month, John has been a youth counsellor at Saint Swithins Boys Shelter. Budget cuts had eliminated the low man on the pole, and John was out on the street. Well, only figuratively because he has a very generous, very wealthy roommate, but still.

 

“You can always come work for me.” Bruce says, ruffling John’s hair.

 

John smacks his hand away. “ _ You _ don’t ever work for you, asshole.”

 

“Hey, I work!” Bruce protests.

 

“No, you party. Shake a few hands, cut a few ribbons, kiss a few babies.”

 

“I think I should kiss more babies,” Bruce says, tilting his head. “They smell good. And anything’s better that screaming toddlers.”

 

John stares at him, incredulous. “Who the fuck are you?”

 

“What? Only you can like kids? I have depth, thank you very much.” Bruce says, affronted.

 

“Anyway,” John says loudly. “Thank you, but I’m not qualified to work for your family’s company. Nor do I want to. You do nothing but complain about that place.”

 

“I know, but a fortune five hundred company is better than nothing, right? Look, give it another month. If you still haven’t found anything, I’ll find you something with the company. Until then, I’ll cover rent and expenses. You can pay me back,” Bruce rolls his eyes when John opens his mouth to protest. “I’ll even charge you interest.”

 

“Well, now, let’s not go crazy.” John says, right before Bruce tackles him to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

A month later, John’s applied for every counselling job he’s qualified for, and a few he isn’t. He gets call backs for three interviews, but nothing comes of them. Bruce has taped the ad for the sex shop to the fridge. He’s even highlighted the address. Even if John were to consider applying, he doesn’t think he could get past the front door without dying from embarrassment.

 

See, the thing is, John’s a pretty open-minded guy. He’s explored his sexuality and he’s tried a few things here and there. He knows what he likes. What he didn’t know was how much he’d like the idea of rope bondage. He also didn’t know his interest would be so intense that he’d start to feel all warm and tingly in his pants when he happened upon the display advertising the store’s monthly workshop teaching people how to tie someone up without doing any damage. 

 

The display itself was bad enough. A six by six foot spider web of intricate knots and loopings that hung neatly from the ceiling. There was even a male Real Doll, hoisted up and supported by nothing but nylon ropes pressing firmly against its life-like skin. All that, he could have dealt with. He could have calmed himself down and stayed cool. But when one of the owners came out of the back, towering, and massively thick, and unlike anything John had seen before, with a length of red rope twisting playfully up his arm and asked in a serious tone if John saw anything that pleased him; well, John may have drooled a little. Like, actually drooled. He was drunk, and horny, and unprepared, okay? How was he supposed to know that he’d be running into a gorgeous hunk of flesh when he was weak and vulnerable.

 

He ended up slurping loudly and nearly passed out when the man looked him up and down and licked his rough lips as he noted John’s burgeoning erection. That’s when John noticed the scars. There were three, each bisecting the man’s mouth and trialing either up his cheek or down, over his chin. John had never seen anything so striking. Sadly, that was about the time his brain caught up with his dick and decided it was time to bolt out the door. Bruce found him three blocks over, vomiting up the night’s drinks into an alley. The fucker was never going to let John live it down.

 

That was nearly a year ago. John figures they must have seen thousands of faces between then and now, so maybe, just maybe, his won’t be remembered. He’s desperate, and he doesn’t have any other options, so he updates his resume to better reflect working in a sex shop (who knew those human sexuality courses would come in handy?), and sets off to hand it in.


	3. Chapter 3

The store is called Out of the Shadows and is located in Old Town, about a twenty minute walk from John and Bruce’s apartment. It’s not shady-looking like most of the other sex and romance shops in town, and it’s housed in a small building with striking Eastern inspired architecture. John notes that the Moroccan restaurant next door smells amazing, even at ten in the morning. 

 

The shop’s only been open a few minutes when John arrives and there’s no one on the floor when he enters. He hears a bell chime somewhere in the back and stands at the front counter to wait. After five minutes, his curiosity gets the better of him and he starts to wander around. He didn’t get a good look at the place the last time, what with the ropes and the drooling, but he vaguely remembers the gold walls and glass shelves.

 

He’s examining a selection of extremely life-like, very large dildos when a throat is cleared behind him. John startles and knocks three of the display models to the floor.

 

“Shit, shit, sorry!” He fumbles trying to pick them all up at once and crumples his resume. 

 

The man watches John with sharp blue eyes as he replaces the dildos, and steps away from the wall, face flaming.

 

“Is there something I can help you with?” the man says, and oh, his voice is deep and accented.

 

“Ah, yeah. I’m here about the position?” John smiles nervously.

 

The man continues to stare at him and John can’t help but wonder if he’s deliberately trying to making John uncomfortable with his silence. Surely the man’s demeanor can’t help him with sales. John straightens up and holds out his resume.

 

“I saw your ad in the paper and I’m interested in the sales position,” he says in his big boy voice.

 

The man’s mouth quirks and he takes the paper, striding back to the counter with it. John follows, feeling a little more sure footed. He stands still and silent while the man reads over his skills and education.

 

“You have experience?” 

 

John gapes. “With sex?”

 

He’s regarded with bored eyes. “With sales.”

 

“Oh, right. Yes. I worked in a book shop all through high school and university.” John can feel his face flushing so he takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down.

 

“And you are open and knowledgeable with alternative lifestyles? We don’t allow shaming here. As long as everything is legal, safe, and consensual, we do not judge.”

 

“Yeah, of course. I mean, to each their own, right?” John smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

 

The man’s eyes narrow as they travel the length of John’s body. “Have you been in before? You look familiar.”

 

“Uh, yeah, once, I think,” John knows he’s blushing now and he feels too warm in his shirt and jacket. “I don’t have much use for stuff like this.”

 

The man raises an eyebrow. “Stuff like this?”

 

Shit, John thinks. Could this go any worse?

 

“Yeah, the fun stuff, you know.” Apparently it can.

 

“Are you opposed to pleasure, John Blake?” The man sneers.

 

“No, no, no, no. I’m not. I just meant, I don’t. Shit. Um, I’m single. Have been for awhile. That’s all I meant.” John runs a hand through his hair, wincing when he remembers he gelled it.

 

“You are aware that a partner is not necessary to-”

 

“Yes, God, yes, I do. Okay, wow. I’m so sorry to have wasted your time. I will see myself out.” John gives him a weird, shaky salute and lunges for the door. 

 

He curses himself once he’s in the parking lot and starts the walk home. Looks like he’ll be working for Bruce after all. Soul sucking, tedious, grunt work that it is, at least it’s a paycheque. With that in mind, John stops by the liquor store to stock up. He’s balancing a case of beer and a bottle of tequila in one hand and trying to unlock the stubborn front door with the other when he hears his phone rings.

 

John answers without checking the caller I.D. “Blake.”

 

“John Blake. This is Barsad.”

 

“Uh, okay.” John frowns, pulling the door open and yanking out his key.

 

“You were in my store less than an hour ago, have you already forgotten?” 

 

His brain catches onto the accent and John mentally kicks himself. “Right, sorry. I didn’t catch your name before.”

 

“You didn’t request it. You can start tomorrow morning at nine thirty.” 

 

“Seriously? I got the job?” John nearly drops the beer in his surprise.

 

“Is that time agreeable?” Barsad asks, sounding disinterested.

 

“Yes, absolutely! Thank you so-” Click.

 

John pulls the phone away from his ear to check the screen. The bastard hung up on him. He shoves the phone in his pocket and presses the button for the elevator, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bruce is going to shit a brick when he finds out.


	4. Chapter 4

“Why are you wearing a tie?” Bruce asks, leaning against the door jam, eating froot loops out of the box.

 

John frowns. “I’m going to work, why wouldn’t I wear a tie?” 

 

“Because you work in a sex store. Ties are not necessary. Well, not that kind, I’m pretty sure.” 

 

“I’m a professional no matter where I work. That requires a tie.” John straightens the knot at his throat.

 

“I don’t wear a tie to work,” Bruce says through a mouthful of cereal.

 

“Well, stripper glitter is notoriously hard to get out of silk.” John grins at Bruce’s choking laugh and smoothes down his hair again. “That’s disgusting, by the way. We own bowls. And spoons. And milk.”

 

“I’m trying to dirty less dishes for you.” 

 

“Or you could, I don’t know, wash your own fucking dishes now and then.” John shoves him out of the way.

 

“Let’s not get carried away.” Bruce follows him down the hall to the front door. “Wait, I made you something!”

 

“I’m going to be late, Bruce, I don’t have time for - what is that?” John stares in surprise at the paper bag Bruce hands him. It’s neatly folded at the top and  _ JOHN _ is scrawled across the flap.

 

“It’s a bag lunch. That’s a thing, right?” Bruce grins at him.

 

“You made me lunch?” John blinks at the bag until Bruce shakes it at him.

 

“Yeah, I mean, don’t expect it everyday or anything, but it’s your first day and I think taking this job is a sign of personal growth for you. You’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and I’m proud of you.”

 

John waits for the crack in Bruce’s smile that means he’s making fun of John, but it doesn’t come. Bruce looks, and sounds, sincere. John takes the bag cautiously.

 

“What’s in it?” 

 

“Relax, it’s not caviar and croquettes, it’s good old pb&j. I even threw in a fun size Snickers because you’ve been such a good boy lately,” Bruce says, and there it is, that shit-eating grin that makes John want to punch him in the teeth.

 

“Fuck you, Wayne,” he says, meaning thank you. “I have to go.” 

 

John doesn’t get nervous until he’s in the parking lot. There’s an older model Range Rover parked beside the store, and all the lights are on. He grips his paper bag and knocks on the glass door, glancing around the interior for Barsad. There’s a buzzing and the lock releases long enough for John to open the door. 

 

Nicki Minaj is playing so loudly in the store John wonders how he didn’t hear it outside. Barsad appears, then disappears in the doorway to the back room and John gathers he’s supposed to follow him. The music is quieter back there, and everything in the stock room is meticulously labeled and sorted.

 

John finds Barsad in the small office. There are several video monitors above the desk, broadcasting views of what John assumes is every inch of the interior and exterior of the shop.

 

“What, no camera in the bathroom?” John jokes.

 

“Sign these,” Barsad shoves a stack of papers at him and crosses his arms. “Do you have an interest in coprophilia, John?”

 

“I… don’t know what that is, but no?” John ventures, looking through the papers. “Wait, what are these?”

 

“Standard tax forms and an employee contract.”

 

“There’s a non-disclosure agreement in here.” John arches an eyebrow.

 

“We have some very profile clients. You’re bound to learn more than you wanted to know about some of the high profile citizens of Gotham. Discretion is key.” 

 

The words are flat, but John can’t help but hear the threat that’s implied. “I live with Bruce Wayne. I already know way more than I ever wanted to about what the rich and famous get up to.”

 

Barsad’s look softens a fraction and John smiles. Maybe this won’t be so bad. “Wait, you’ve already entered my tax information and my social security number.”

 

“Yes.” Barsad said.

 

“I didn’t give you that, how do you know how much money I made last year?” John demands.

 

“I’m thorough. Is there an error?”

 

“Well, no, but. That’s a little creepy, okay?” John tells him and the bastard smiles.

 

“Sign them and I will show you the opening procedure,” Barsad tells him and walks out.

 

John watches his path to the front of the store on the monitors. He signs the papers begrudgingly.

 

Barsad is waiting for him at the counter and they go through the checklist beside the till. John’s a fast learner, and Barsad doesn’t say it, but he thinks the man is impressed with how quickly he picks up everything he’s shown. 

 

“So are there any other employees?” John asks casually after he unlocks the front door. He’d been nervous last night, fretting about the guy he’d run into the one other time he’d been in the store. He hasn’t decided if he wants the guy to still work there or not.

 

“My brother is away,” Barsad says, reading over an order list.

 

“And that’s it? Just the three of us?” 

 

Barsad grunts, not looking up.

 

“When will he be back? Your brother, I mean.”

 

Barsad raises his head, eyes narrowing. “What business have you with my brother?”

 

“What? Nothing, I’ve never even met him. I’m just curious.” John can feel his face heating and he curses his inability to keep his emotions to himself. He doesn’t even know if the brother is the man he remembers, and already he’s embarrassing himself.

 

“You’ve encountered him before.” Barsad says, setting the list aside. John had been uncomfortable with the silence before, but now that the man’s full attention is on him, he’d very much like to return to it.

 

“I don’t think so.” John looks away.

 

“You were familiar to me so I went through the tapes. You were here in late November of last year, with Bruce Wayne.” 

 

“I’m sure you noticed we were pretty drunk. I don’t remember much from that night.” John says, feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass.

 

“My brother seemed to make an impression on you,” Barsad says, only the crinkles around his eyes indicating that he’s teasing. “Or his work did, at least.”

 

John swallows. “That’s your brother? The big guy?”

 

“Bane.” Barsad nods.

 

“Right, okay. I remember him. He does the rope work, right?”

 

“Shibari. I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a demonstration when he returns.” Barsad smirks and damned it John does get a little hard at the prospect.

 

“Ah, that’s okay.”

 

“You’ll need to learn many new things to aid our customers, John. I hope you’re not afraid to step away from what is familiar.”

 

“No, of course not. I’m open to anything.”

 

Barsad’s smirk grows into something almost, but not quite resembling a smile. “Bane will be glad to hear it.”

 

John nearly chokes on his spit.

 

“You’ll be working with him when he returns. My work is done in the back.”

 

“What kind of work it that?” John asks, trying to get the conversation back on track.

 

“Custom orders.” Barsad says before taking his list into the back.

 

John blinks after him. Okay then, apparently they’re done training. He wanders the store, familiarizing himself with the products and what they’re for. He makes a list of things he doesn’t know much about, then uses his phone to do some googling. Half an hour later he’s pretty sure he’s on several government watch lists. 

 

The store is busier than he thought it would be, and half the people who come in are there for Barsad’s mystery custom orders. He takes them in the back and they all return smiling about a half hour later. John’s pretty sure Barsad isn’t running a prostitution service out of the back room, but he can’t be sure and he really, really doesn’t want to ask. 

 

At one o’clock, Barsad sends him for lunch. John gets a Coke from the store on the corner and perches on the cinderblock fence behind the building to eat. The sandwich Bruce made is messy, but really fucking good. The peanut butter is plain old Skippy, but the jam is like some sort of fruit carnival in his mouth. It’s the best damn sandwich he’s ever had and he makes a note to ask Bruce where he got the jam because it’s certainly not the discount brand they usually have in the house. 

 

He snorts when he sees that there is indeed a fun-size Snickers in the bottom of the bag. Stuck to it is a yellow post-it with  _ Go get em, tiger! _ written in red pen. A heart dots the ‘i’ and John shakes his head and shoves the note in his pocket. Fucking Bruce.

 

Barsad’s on the phone when John returns, and he catches sight of an actual smile before the man turns his back and disappears into the back room. By four, John has restocked all the shelves and reorganized the bookshelves. He’s looking around for something else to do when Bruce comes in.

 

“What are you doing here?” John hisses.

 

“Relax, I came to buy something.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s my first fucking day, you couldn’t have waited?”

 

“John, would you have me practice unsafe sex just because you’re uncomfortable selling me condoms?” Brace asks, a hand to his chest.

 

“Oh, fuck off, there are at least a dozen boxes of condom in your room. I know, because you leave them lying around and I have to pick them up.” 

 

“No, you choose to, let’s get that straight.”

 

John snorts as Barsad comes out of the back.

 

“What do you want?” John whispers angrily.

 

“The young woman I’m entertaining tonight is allergic to latex and I need an alternative.” Bruce says with his public figure smile. The one designed to charm the masses and make him look approachable and honest. The one that hasn’t worked on John in nearly twenty years.

 

“Over here,” John grumbles, leading him to the rack of polyurethane and FC2 condoms.

 

Barsad watches them covertly from the counter. John can feel the man’s eyes on his back and he inwardly curses Bruce for coming in. 

 

“I’ve never used one of these,” Bruce muses, fingering a box of female condoms. “Can you give me a demonstration?”

 

“No.” John spits. 

 

“Why not?” Bruce asks innocently.

 

“Because I don’t have a vagina.” 

 

Bruce grins and picks up one box of each non-latex option. “You’re no fun, John.”

 

“Do I come to your work and mock you?” 

 

“Yes, often.”

 

John can hardly argue with that so he simply walks away. 

 

Bruce dumps the boxes on the counter, smiling at Barsad. “Hello.”

 

Barsad nods.

 

“How’s our boy doing so far?” Bruce asks.

 

Barsad looks at John and arches an eyebrow.

 

“Barsad, this is my friend Bruce. Bruce, this is  _ my boss _ , Barsad.” John says, scanning the boxes.

 

“Nice to meet you.” Bruce holds out his hand, his smile slipping a little when Barsad simply looks at it.

 

“Sixty-four twenty,” John tells him, bagging the boxes.

 

“Right.” Bruce drops his hand and fishes out his credit card.

 

John hands him the bag once the transaction is done and gives him a fake smile. “Thank you, come again.”

 

Bruce glares at him, eyes flicking to Barsad. 

 

Barsad huffs once Bruce is gone. “You have a friends and family discount.”

 

“Yep.” John nods.

 

“You did not use it for him.”

 

“Nope. He gets enough for free, paying for shit is good for him.”

 

The corner of Barsad’s mouth quirks up and he hands John a set of keys before he heads back to the office. John can’t help his grin and decides to take it as a win.


	5. Chapter 5

John’s through his second week of work before he meets Bane. The first thing he notices is that the lights aren’t on in the store. The Range Rover is there, parked in its usual spot, but John unlocks the door a little wary about what he might find inside. Nicki isn’t blaring from the speakers, and John realizes how accustomed to it he’s become.

 

He locks the door behind him and grips the strap of his bag across his chest. The door to the back room is open and the light is on in the office. He checks behind the counter to make sure no one’s hiding there before sneaking a peek around the corner into the office. It’s empty, but all the monitors have been turned on. If there is someone here, they’ve seen him. 

 

“Hello?” He calls, eyes scanning the darkened stock room. “Barsad?”

 

No answer. Maybe he ran to the store. John steps into the office, scanning the monitors for any movement. When he doesn’t see any, he hangs up his jacket and bag and keys in the code for the safe. It’ll be ten minutes before it opens, so John goes to make coffee. The light switch for the stock room is at the back door, which is only used for deliveries, so John has to navigate the space in near total darkness. He’s almost there when the hair on the back of his neck stirs and a shiver runs through him.

 

“John Blake.” A mechanised, accented voice says, right into his ear.

 

John doesn’t scream. He doesn’t. What he does do is make a kind of shocked, gurgling noise while spinning around and throwing a punch. It’s all very manly.

 

His fist is caught by a giant hand, and John gasps as his bones grind together.

 

“I have frightened you.” The voice says and John looks up. And up. Then up some more. 

 

It’s him. Bane. The big guy who made John pitch a tent and run away. He releases John’s hand and reaches past him to turn on the lights. John tries not to stare, he really does, but he’s sure he just stands there, eyes fixed on the massive man in front of him and the metal contraption covering half his face.

 

Bane notices the staring and narrows his eyes. He stalks into the office and returns without the mask.

 

“Barsad did not tell you I had returned.” Bane says, and his voice is much softer.

 

“Ah, no. Sorry. Jesus, you startled me. I’m John.” John tries to regain some of his composure, but Bane is ridiculously large and attractive.

 

“I am aware.” Bane frowns.

 

“Right, yeah, of course. You said my name.” John laughs nervously.

 

“Do you need to sit down?” Bane asks.

 

“No, no, I’m fine, really. Just…”  _ Turned on _ , John’s brain supplies, making him flush. Having Bane sneak up on him like that was exciting and jarring, and he’d quite like some more, thank you very much.

 

“Afraid.” Bane says.

 

“What? No. It was a surprise, sure, but I’m fine,” John assures him. The safe chimes and he gives Bane a small smile. “I’ll just grab those.”

 

Bane doesn’t move out of the way and John has to brush past him to get into the office. And Jesus, of course he does, because Bane take up the entire width of the door and John feels like he’s sucking all the air out of the room. His chest presses against Bane’s arm and a thrill goes through him. Bane is solid. Thick, and warm, and John has to slurp discretely because he’s salivating, and Christ, Blake, get a hold of yourself.

 

He crouches in front of the safe and pulls out the cash drawer, extremely conscious of Bane’s eyes on his back. When John squeezes past him again on his way to the front, he keeps his head lowered and his elbows in. Bane doesn’t follow him and John takes a minute to get himself under control. He needs this job, and it’s going to be really fucking inconvenient if he can’t keep his arousal under control while Bane’s around.

 

The lights go on over head and a few minutes later John smells coffee. He’s going over his task list for the day when Bane sets a steaming mug in front of him. 

 

John looks up, surprised. “Thanks.”

 

Bane nods solemnly and goes to unlock the front door. John drinks his perfectly sweetened coffee (and okay, how the fuck did Bane figure that out?) and sends out emails to customers who are waiting on special orders. He startles when Bane drops something onto the counter.

 

It’s a giant coil of red nylon rope. John gulps his coffee and tries to remember to breathe as Bane starts looping the rope around his arm. 

 

Bane catches him watching and John flushes. “What are you doing?” he asks, trying to seem normal and not at all like he’s hiding a chub under the counter.

 

“We require a new display. Now that I’m back, I will once again be offering monthly classes.” Bane tells him, the rope creaking.

 

John licks his lips and latches onto the least inappropriate question that pops up in his mind. “Where were you?”

 

“Nepal.” Bane answers, eyes on the rope.

 

“Oh, wow. What were you doing there?” 

 

Bane narrows his eyes. “I climbed a mountain.”

 

“Seriously?” John gapes.

 

“Yes.” Bane says easily, putting the rope down.

 

“I guess that explains why you’re so good with the rope, huh?” 

 

“No.” Bane says, and John has no idea how one word can hold so much promise and innuendo, but John’s arousal spikes to eleven and he has to excuse himself under the guise of needing more coffee to adjust himself in the bathroom. It’s going to be a long fucking day.


	6. Chapter 6

John’s sprawled on the couch when Bruce gets home and smacks him in the face with a throw pillow.

 

“Fuck off,” John grumbles, throwing his arms over his face.

 

“Geez, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” Bruce asks, flopping into the armchair.

 

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

 

“Uh-huh, sure. You know I know what you wearing sweatpants means, right?” 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” John tells him primly, his face heating.

 

“Really? Because in my experience, coming home to a John in sweatpants means coming home to a John who’s spent the better part of the day jacking it in his room.” 

 

“Oh my god, fuck you!” John throws the pillow at him.

 

Bruce catches it and laughs. “Anyone I know?”

 

“No,” John answers a little too forcefully.

 

“Oh, god, it’s not that Barsad guy is it? He’s cold, even for you.”

 

“It’s not Barsad, and what’s that supposed to mean?” John says, turning to look at Bruce.

 

“How do I put this delicately? You like ice queens.”

 

“I do not,” John protests, sitting up.

 

“You do. You like guys who treat you poorly and make you work for every scrap of attention.”

 

“Jesus, Bruce, don’t sugar coat it.”

 

“We’ve been friends for too long for me to go easy on you. So, who is it?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” John gumbles.

 

“Great, let’s go out.” Bruce jumps to his feet.

 

“Ugh, no. I’m tired.”

 

“That’s what furious masturbation does to you, my friend. Let’s go out and find someone else to play with your dick so you don’t have to do all the work.”

 

John considers it, he really does. Being out with Bruce pretty much guarantees him some action, but he’s just not up for it tonight. All he can think about is Bane, and the mask, and all that fucking red rope, and oh, would you look at that, he’s not as worn out as he thought.

 

“I don’t think so. You go and have fun.”

 

Bruce pouts for a second before shrugging and going into his room. 

 

John groans into his hands, then gets up to order some food. If he’s going to feel sorry for himself and think of Bane all night, he’s going to need sustenance. 

 

Bruce comes out of his room as John shuts the front door. The Moroccan place beside the shop delivers and John’s become addicted to the Harira soup. Bruce is dressed down in a tight black t-shirt and jeans. His hair is loose and he pulls on black leather biker boots and a jacket to match.

 

“Slumming it, are you?” John teases.

 

“I feel I must be amongst the little people now and then. Keeps me humble.”

 

John snorts. “Humble, right.”

 

“Living with you isn’t the only act of charity I perform, John.”

 

“Charity, is that what you do? Sleeping with half of Gotham is you giving back.”

 

“I’m a very giving person,” Bruce says seriously.

 

“Uh-huh, just don’t give anyone an STD, okay? And stop bringing girls back here, I’m tired of them drinking all my orange juice because you don’t know how to buy groceries.”

 

“But I can bring guys home?” Bruce grins.

 

“Only if they have a cute friend.” 

 

“Noted.” Bruce salutes him and grabs his keys. “Don’t get come on the furniture!” He calls cheerfully before the door closes.

 

John watches a home renovation show and eats his soup. His mind keeps comparing the well-built handyman on the show to Bane. He’s smaller and actually has facial expressions, and normally he’d be perfect spank bank material, but all John can think about is Bane’s breath ghosting through the mask and across his neck.

 

He mutes the tv and leans back. He had really, really tried to keep Bane out of his thoughts while he masturbated after work. Now, though, he can’t help but picturing large hands manipulating nylon. 

 

John rubs himself lightly through his pants, letting his fingers tease from the base of his cock to the tip. It had taken Bane most of the day to construct his display and John had been stuck behind the counter, watching and fearing that if he went out on the floor someone would notice his bulge. He’d even contemplated rubbing one out in the bathroom on his break, but somehow he knew Bane would know what he was doing in there. He didn’t want to think about the fact that it make him harder just to think about it.

 

He gives in and slides his hand under his waistband. Bruce is right, they are his jack-off pants. John likes to be comfortable and loose when he masturbates. Plus, they make for easy access.

 

John shuffles lower in his seat, cupping his balls in his palm and giving them a little tug. He closes his eyes and thinks about Bane’s big hands. He could no doubt fit both John’s balls in his closed fist, warm and confined. John whines and squeezes, imagining Bane is there, holding him captive and submissive. 

 

He can feel precome dripping on his stomach and he stops to gather it on his fingers before smoothing it over his cock. He’s a little sensitive, but he can’t stop now. Not with Bane on his knees in front of him, his wide shoulders holding John’s legs open. Stroking his cock in a grip that’s a little too tight, and all around perfection, he rubs his fingers over the head, hissing at the sensation, just this side of too much. He should be using some lube to make things easier, but there’s no way he’s stopping before he’s done.

 

Instead, he thinks about Bane’s mouth. Those beautiful scarred lips closing around him and sliding to the base. So warm and so moist, easing John’s discomfort. Would he let John fuck up into his mouth or would he pin him down by the hips and torture John slowly until he begged to come? Torture, probably, and John moans at the thought. His hand speeds up, and how is he so close already? He just started and he wants it to last, but his mind travels to the red rope wrapped around his limbs, keeping him in place while Bane swallows him down again and again, with John helpless against whatever Bane gives him, and he’s coming, spilling hot and thick over his hand and onto his belly.

 

He keeps his hand on his cock until he’s soft again; too warm, and too sensitive, and splattered in spunk. His sweatpants are dirty because he didn’t bother to pull them down properly, and he’s too tired to move. He peels off the pants and cleans himself up, barely able to keep his eyes open. He crawls into bed, so tired he can barely see straight. He’s just laid his head down when he realizes he has to work with Bane again tomorrow. Suddenly he’s wide awake and horrified. There’s no way he can act normal around the man now that he’s jacked off to thoughts of him, John knows he can’t. He presses a pillow over his face and screams in frustration. 

 

He is so fucked.


	7. Chapter 7

John makes sure to arrive at the store with barely fifteen minutes to spare in the morning. The less time he leaves to embarrass himself in front of Bane, the better. The lights are off again, the store eerily quiet even though he knows Bane is there. He should really call out a greeting and save himself from Bane sneaking up on him again, but he remembers the thrill that ran through him yesterday and stays silent.

 

He drops his belongings in the office and sets the safe to open, then makes his way slowly across the back room to the coffee pot. He fills the reservoir and measures out the grinds in the red light from the exit sign above the back door. He knows Bane is there, but he’s yet to make himself known, and somehow it feels like a game. Turning on the lights would be cheating, and John’s a competitive man. He strains his ears to pick up Bane’s breathing, but the coffee’s started brewing and John can’t hear anything above the gurgling of the machine.

 

He’s halfway back to the office when Bane steps in front of him, causing John to collide with his warm, firm chest. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Bane did it on purpose.

 

“Oof, it’s like running into a brick wall.” John laughs nervously, taking a small step back. He’s still in Bane’s space, close enough to smell him but not actually touching.

 

“I was perfectly detectable. You chose to remain blinded,” Bane says, and he must be wearing the mask against because there’s a mechanised wheezing to the words.

 

“You seem to prefer the lights off. I didn’t want to startle you,” John says, physically restraining himself from leaning into Bane.

 

“You cannot startle me,” Bane tells him in an amused tone. “I am too aware of you.”

 

John nearly moans with how fast all the blood rushes to his cock. He coughs out a laugh, instead. He’s about to say something witty and leading when the safe beeps.

 

“Um, I’ll get that,” he says instead, fleeing into the office.

 

Bane follows him this time and once again, John feels him watching as he squats uncomfortably to retrieve the cash tray. His erection is squashed against his leg, but at least it’s enough to discourage his arousal.

 

“What’s, um, the mask. Why do you wear it?” John focuses on the cash float and not on the mouth he knows is hiding behind the metal contraption on Bane’s face.

 

“I have lung damage,” Bane says, watching John closely. “Caused by childhood illness. The mask delivers medication.”

 

“Do you have to wear it more than once a day?” John studies the mask.

 

Bane fingers the front grill, where the silver tubes must pump in the medication. When John meets his eyes, Bane seems apprehensive.

 

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” He flushes and looks away.

 

“I wear it during my break,” Bane offers. “Then again at night.”

 

“That’s amazing. I mean, you climbed a freaking mountain with lung damage. My roommate stubs his toe and can’t get out of bed for three days.” 

 

Bane chuckles, eyes softening. “And you, do you suffer silently?”

 

John puffs out his chest out a little, because yeah, he can take a hit and keep ticking. “I once pitched a little league championship game with a broken ankle. I do all right.”

 

Bane reaches up to remove the mask and gives John a small smile. “Resilience is an admirable quality.”

 

John take the cash drawer to the till feeling warm all over. He’s pretty sure a compliment from Bane is a rare thing to receive and he wants to wrap it around himself like a blanket. He doesn’t realize he’s completely forgotten his activities of the night before until Barsad comes in a hour later. He takes one look at John and his smirk is enough to make John want to crawl under a table and hide. 

 

Barsad goes into the back and John’s surprised when Bane comes storming out a minute later, mask in hand. He doesn’t stop to acknowledge John before he’s out the front door. John cautiously makes his way to the office, certain he’s going to find Barsad knocked out cold on the floor. Instead, he finds him taping some poster board to the wall.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Everything is fine, John.” Barsad smoothes out one of the corners.

 

“Bane seemed upset.”

 

“Bane doesn’t like to accept that I know what’s best for him.”

 

“Um, okay.” John frowns.

 

Barsad steps back and John sees what’s written on the poster.

 

“Employee of the month program? There are technically only three employees, and two of you are owners.”

 

“So?” Barsad blinks slowly.

 

“So, aren’t I kind of the default employee of the month, every month?”

 

“You think you deserve it by default?”

 

“No, no, I was just,” John stops, breathes, and starts again. “Right, it’s a good incentive. I’ve always wanted my name printed on a piece of poster board.”

  
“Excellent. I have high hopes for you, John.” Barsad smiles at him and John thinks he knows what a bird feels like right before the cat pounces.


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks later, John comes in to find Barsad on the phone in the office, a shy but honest smile stretched across his face. He’s speaking lowly and chuckles softly before noticing John and slamming the door in his face.

 

When he comes out of the back he slaps a large sticker to John’s chest, making him wince.  _ Employee of the Month _ is written in big, pink bubble letters on John’s new accessory.

 

“You were serious about that, huh?” John frowns.

 

Barsad gives him a flat look.

 

“I mean, yay. Thank you.” John waves his hands in the air because he just really doesn’t fucking care.

 

“The store will treat you to lunch today.”

 

John perks up. “Oh, cool. Thanks.”

 

“With one of the owners,” Barsad continues.

 

“Wait, what?  _ You’re _ going to take me to lunch?” John asks warily.

 

“I’m much too busy.” Barsad turns to go back into the office.

 

“Oh,” John relaxes.

 

“Bane will take you.” The office door slams shut and John jumps.

 

“Well, shit.”

 

Bane arrives with a scowl and goes directly into the office to speak with Barsad. John feels incredibly uncomfortable, knowing it’s him they’re arguing about. When they come out, Bane won’t look at him and Barsad looks distinctly smug. As much as one can with a face devoid of emotion.

 

They head over to the restaurant next door and sit in awkward silence until they’ve ordered. John tells himself he’s been trained to get people to open up to him and he’s determined to learn something about the giant man across the table. Sure, he’s used to dealing with moody teenagers, but he’s pretty sure handling Bane isn’t that far off when you get down to it.

 

“So, tell me about shibari. Barsad says you’re really good at it,” John tries while they wait for their food.

 

Bane eyes him carefully before responding. “I am.”

 

John waits expectantly for Bane to continue. When he doesn’t, John sighs and runs a hand through his hair, Bane’s eyes tracking the movement.

 

“This is where you expand on your statement.” John tells him. “How did you get into it? What do you like about it?”

 

“Those are very personal questions,” Bane says, and John thinks he can see the tips of his ears go pink. 

 

“Then tell me to fuck off. I’m trying here.” John leans back, frustrated with always feeling exposed and wrongfooted with Bane. He’s managed to stop masturbating to thoughts of him, but that’s really only because John’s stopped masturbating all together. He is really trying to maintain a professional relationship with Bane, but honestly, he can’t not think about him when his dick’s in his hand. 

 

Bane frowns, looking a little bashful. “Are you interested in learning shibari?”

 

“Ah, I’m not sure. I couldn’t even master a bowline knot in Scouts, so I don’t think I should be trusted with suspending someone from the ceiling.”

 

“Not all shibari is for suspension,” Bane explains.

 

“Well, all the stuff that came up when I Googled it was. Just a word of advice, don’t Google shibari on your laptop at Starbucks. They’ll ask you to leave.”

 

Bane give him a sliver of a smile. “If you had questions, you could have asked me.”

 

“I’m asking you now.” John leans forward. 

 

Bane regards him, then relaxes his arms. “Shibari is about sensuality, vulnerability, and strength. With the rope as with paint and brush, the rigger is an artist. The subject is the canvas on which I create my masterpiece. The patterns of the rope contrast or compliment the beautiful curves of the human body.”

 

John’s erection is making itself known, but it’s not urgent. More like a low roar of arousal as Bane speaks lovingly and truthfully about his work. Still, John can’t help but notice the mention of curves.

 

“Does your girlfriend work with you? Or is that too personal a question?” John winces at his total failure at sounding nonchalant.

 

“I do not have a girlfriend. I have a friend who helps me with demonstrations, though she doesn’t practice on her own.” 

 

“Is that something you require in a partner? Like, does shibari have a sexual element for you, or is it just a really complicated hobby?” John is proud of himself for his bravery until Bane looks away and frowns.

 

“You’re very curious.” It sounds like an accusation.

 

“Sorry, I’m just really fascinated by it all. Sometimes when I look at the knotwork you’ve done around the store, I zone out. It’s just really… calming, I guess. I’m not sure. Don’t tell Barsad I do that, though. He’ll kick my ass.” John chuckles weakly.

 

Bane is staring at him again, and John fights not to squirm. “Come to the workshop Friday evening. I will show you.”

 

John feels his face heat up, and he grows flustered thinking about how that would affect him. Having Bane restrain him, even with just a simple knot, would probably be enough to have him coming in his pants. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped masturbating. And there would be other people there. Oh God, he thinks. No, no, no. Not possible.

 

“Um, thanks, but I can’t. I have, um, I have plans,” John lies badly, watching Bane’s gaze grow more and more closed off as he goes. “Thank you, though.”

 

Their food arrives and conversation stops. John eats, sneaking glances at Bane, who keeps his eyes on his plate and asks for the cheque the moment he’s finished. John drags out his last few bites until Bane’s paid, and they shuffle back across the parking lot to the store in silence.

  
Bane holds the door open for him and John mumbles his thanks. Barsad raises his head at their entrance and his gaze narrows. John hears Bane huff and Barsad rolls his eyes and storms off into the back room. Bane leaves shortly after without saying goodbye and John spends the rest of the day feeling guilty and not knowing why.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that in this universe, John and Bruce are the same age. Because I say so.

When John gets home that night, Bruce is waiting.

 

“What’s all this?” John drops his bag on the floor

 

“I made you dinner.” Bruce gives him his thousand-watt smile.

 

“You can’t cook. I’m not even sure you know where the grocery store is.” 

 

Bruce’s smile slides away. “Fine, I ordered you dinner. Why do you have to ruin everything?”

 

“How is calling you on your bullshit ruining everything? If you’d just said you ordered dinner, I wouldn’t have had to argue.” John kicks off his shoes and throw his jacket over the back of the couch. 

 

“Geez, who pissed in your cornflakes? I was trying to do something nice, asshole.” Bruce flops onto one of the chairs and picks up a glass of wine.

 

John scrubs his hands over his face and sits down across from Bruce. “Sorry, just a shit day at work. Thank you for dinner.”

 

“You’re welcome. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Nah, there isn’t really anything to say. I pissed off Bane, and I’m not ever sure he has the right to be pissed off. I mean, if I don’t want to do something out of my comfort zone, that’s up to me, right?”

 

Bruce’s eyes go wide. “Wait, did he proposition you?”

 

“What? No, God, no. Nevermind, okay?” John takes a gulp of his wine. “What did you order, I’m starving.”

 

Bruce frowns at him, but goes into the kitchen and comes back with parmesan chicken from John’s favourite place downtown. John’s stomach growls at the smell and he’s halfway through his meal before he notices Bruce staring at him.

 

“What?” he asks around a mouthful of noodles.

 

“You’re stress-eating.”

 

“I am not.” John swallows and take a sip of wine.

 

“You are. I can tell,” Bruce says primly, cutting his chicken.

 

“Please, you can barely tell the time,” John scoffs.

 

“Dude.”

 

“Sorry,” John winces. “I heard it that time. Ugh, maybe I am stress-eating.”

 

“You were normal when you went to work. Well, as normal as you get, anyway.”

 

“Fuck you,” John chuckles, sitting back. “Bane took me to lunch today. It was silent and awkward, then it was strangely nice and companionable, and then it was silent and awkward again.”

 

“Wait, rewind to the part where the guy you’re gagging for asked you to lunch.”

 

“I am not gagging for him!” John protested.

 

“You are, it’s sad and obvious. Now he asked you to lunch.” Bruce waved his hand, indicating that John should continue.

 

“I hate you. Barsad made him take me as a reward for being employee of the month; he didn’t seem too happy about it.”

 

“And what did you do to ruin it?”

 

“I swear to God, it’s like you want me to punch you in the face. I didn’t do anything. I asked him about his interest in shibari. He told me about it, then asked me if I wanted to come to his workshop. I said no and he got all broody.”

 

“Why would you say no?” Bruce frowned.

 

“Why would I say yes? I was just asking about it to be polite.” John shrugged, looking away.

 

“John, I’m not an idiot. Besides, you’re really bad at remembering to clear your internet history. You’re totally into that rope shit.” 

 

“Stay the fuck away from my laptop, you stalker!” 

 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. We haven’t had secrets from each other since we were twelve.”

 

“No, you haven’t respected my privacy since I was twelve, there’s a difference. Why are you so shitty at interpersonal relationships?”

 

“I’m an orphan,” Bruce sniffed.

 

“So am I, and I don’t go snooping through your internet history.” John threw his napkin at Bruce’s head.

 

“I take my mentoring of you very seriously, John. That requires keeping a close eye on you.”

 

“Oh my God! Shut the fuck up. Mentoring, really?” John laughed. “You’d make the worst mentor in history. You have zero respect for personal boundaries, you have no respect for authority, and you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

 

“That sound like an amazing mentor. Now, back to Bane. Why would you say no?”

 

John groans and drops his head into his hands. “Because he wanted to show me what he can do, and if he does that, I’m not going to be able to hide what it does to me. I mean, I can barely get my dick in my hand quick enough when I’m just thinking about it. What’s going to happen if he actually touches me? Oh God, what if he wants to restrain me?” 

 

Bruce scrunches up his nose. “That just made you hard thinking about it, didn’t it?”

 

“I am so fucked.” John bangs his head on the table.

 

“Stop it, no you’re not. Look, you like the guy, you like what he can do with rope, and it’s interfering with your ability to function, right?”

 

“Right,” John agrees around a mouthful of tablecloth.

 

“The first thing you need to do is start jerking off again. If you don’t you’re just going to embarrass yourself more. No one wants to buy a sixteen inch dong from a guy with an erection, it’s just weird.”

 

John chuckles weakly.

 

“Second, you need to find out if Bane is even into guys. If he’s not, problem solved. Although, if he’s inviting you around for a little rope play, I’m betting he likes the D.”

 

“You are truly a horrible person.” 

 

“And you love me, so what does that say about you? Now, thirdly, you need to decide if it’s actually Bane you’re after, or just the rope thing.”

 

“Oh, it’s Bane. The shibari is just a happy coincidence.” John sits up.

 

“Good, then you need to let him know you’re interested. It kind of seems like he made the first move and you shot him down, so he’s probably going to need a pretty big gesture.”

 

“How did you get so good at all this relationship stuff? You’ve never had one that lasted longer than a weekend.”

 

“No, but I’ve had nearly twenty years of therapy, and after a while, shit starts to sink in. Now, fourthly-”

 

“Fourthly isn’t a word.”

 

“Shut up. Fourthly, you need to buy a sex swing.”

 

John stares at him for a minute, waiting for Bruce to explain. When Bruce just sits there, cutting up and eating small bites of chicken and pasta, John flicks him in the ear.

 

“Ow!”

 

“What the fuck? A sex swing? Why do I need a sex swing?”

 

“You don’t, I do. You’re going to buy me one.” Bruce says simply.

 

“Um, nope.”

 

“Um, yep. I just gave you free advice. You can repay me with a sex swing. I know you get a discount.”

 

“You don’t need a discount, you’re loaded.” John tells him.

 

“It’s more the principal of it, really. Why not use it if it’s available?”

 

“Because it’s my discount and I’m not using it to buy you a freaking sex swing. Nevermind how embarrassing that would be, then I’d have to listen to you using the damn thing!”

 

Bruce shrugs. “You could use it, too.”

 

“I don’t want to use it! Jesus.” John empties his glass and reaches for the bottle, but his phone starts ringing before he can refill his glass. “Blake.”

 

“I need you to arrive at work two hours early tomorrow.” Barsad says, instead of hello, like a normal human being.

 

“Okay, any particular reason?” John asks slowly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” John looks to Bruce, who’s still pouting about not getting his sex swing.

 

“No.”

 

John waits to see if he’s going to say anything else, but Barsad remains silent. John sighs. “Okay, I’ll be there at eight.”

 

“Good. Be sure to shower thoroughly.” Barsad says and hangs up.

 

John frowns at his phone, unsure how to take that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you dislike reading about cute boys in booty shorts, you should probably skip this chapter.

 

John gets to the store the next morning with an extra large coffee because getting up two hours early for work and taking an incredibly meticulous shower isn’t on his list of things he likes to do on Saturday mornings.

 

He frowns at Barsad, who is setting up lights around a white backdrop at the back of the store.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“You’re late,” Barsad says, turning on the lights.

 

“You said eight. What is all this?” John gestures with his coffee.

 

“It’s eight oh four.”

 

John closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why am I here so early?”

 

“We will now be selling a line of men’s underwear and lingerie. You will model it for advertising purposes.”

 

“Like hell I will!” John gapes at him.

 

Barsad stares at him, perfectly calm. “When you signed your employee contract, you agreed to your likeness being used for promotional material.”

 

“That’s not the same as agreeing to pose in lingerie!” 

 

“You claimed to have an open and welcoming mind, John.”

 

“And I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to say yes to everything. First Bane with the workshop, and now this?”

 

Barsad narrows his gaze and John curses himself for mentioning it. “Bane asked you to attend his workshop?”

 

“Maybe. Look, I’m a youth counselor. Working in a sex shop is one thing, but modeling male lingerie is just too much.” John tells him, hoping it will end the conversation.

 

“Your face will not be shown in the ads. I swear it.” 

 

“Why can’t you do it? We’re almost the same size. I’m sure you’ve got good stuff going on under all that camping gear chic.” John waves his hand at Barsad, whose eyebrows rise in response.

 

“Is this where I tell you you’re prettier than I am?” 

 

“Couldn’t hurt.” John shrugs.

 

Barsad sighs and rolls his eyes. “Disregarding the model is key in these kinds of photos, to keep the focus on the items we are selling,” he says, pulling up the hem of his black henley and displaying the eight-inch scar curving around his torso. “I am not easy to forget.”

 

“Jesus, did that hurt?” John asks in horror.

 

“No, it was perfectly pleasant.” Barsad lowers his shirt. “Go drop your things in the office and we’ll get started.”

 

“Fine, but don’t think I don’t know you’re basically calling me not worth remembering.”

 

“Go.” Barsad smirks and plays with the settings on his camera.

 

John returns sullenly and is directed to the sole changing room next to where Barsad is set up. There are several outfits set out for him, seemingly in the order Barsad wants them worn. John’s not ashamed of his body, he works out and rarely receives complaints, but he’s not usually one to display it freely. He thinks about Bruce praising him for stepping out of his comfort zone and takes off his clothes.

 

“What is taking so long?” Barsad snaps from the other side of the door.

 

“Calm your tits, I’m just making sure everything is in the right place.” John mutters, adjusting his genitals into what he hopes is an appealing shape. The boxer briefs are red plaid and not any shorter than the ones he came to work in, but he doesn’t usually have to worry if his matching suspenders are even.

 

“This isn’t exactly what I was thinking when you said men’s lingerie,” he says stepping out of the room and freezing at the sight of Bane standing there. Bane has the mask on, so John can’t really tell what his reaction is, but his eyes are wide and his body is perfectly still.

 

“Um. Hi.” John says, knowing his face is beet red.

 

“John.” Bane jerks his head in a nod, his voice sounding tighter than it normally does. “Barsad will return in a moment.”

 

“Right. Did you know about this? Because a head’s up would have been nice.” John jokes lamely.

 

“I… did not.”

 

“Why are you here? Is he making you dress up, too?” And oh, that’s an idea, John thinks.

 

Bane makes a choking noise behind the mask, but Barsad comes back before he can answer. 

 

“Does John not look acceptable, Brother?” Barsad asks.

 

Bane’s eyes travel over John’s almost naked body, and he stills, letting him have his look. It’s a minute before Bane says anything. 

 

“He is… satisfactory.”

 

“Gee, way to make a guy feel special. You two suck at paying compliments, you know that.” John crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“You have better muscle definition than I assumed,” Bane says quietly, his breathing heavy through the mask. “It is quite becoming.”

 

“Oh, um. Thank you. That’s better.” John gives him a shy smile.

 

“If you two are quite done, we will begin.” Barsad interrupts and pushes John toward the backdrop.

 

It starts out feeling awkward and posed, but soon John is feeling more at home in front of the camera and Barsad stops barking orders at him. It helps that Nicki Minaj is once again blaring through the speakers and John can sing and shimmy along. 

 

Bane dismantles his ropework display and starts on a new one, casting furtive glances at John that have him feeling so brazen and confident that he doesn’t even blink at sliding into a pair of shiny emerald booty shorts. They hug his slim hips like a second skin and the moment John puts them on, he feels like a sexy superhero. The matching cape and eyemask don’t hurt, either.

 

John bounds out of the dressing room, a grin on his face. “Is someone in need of saving?”

 

“Bang. Splat. Pow.” Barsad deadpans, clicking away.

 

John jumps around, striking silly poses and covertly watching Bane’s reaction. His knots are being tied with more force than usual, but other than that he seems unaffected. 

 

“So, are you two really brothers?” John asks, turning his back to the camera and looking over his shoulder. The cape is short enough that his ass is still visible, wrapped in glossy green fabric.

 

“You doubt it?” Barsad asks, adjusting the lense.

 

“Well, you don’t exactly look alike,” John says, dropping into the controversial Spider-Woman pose with his ass in the air. 

 

There’s a giant crash as Bane tugs too hard on his rope and the ceiling tiles above him come crashing down.

 

“He’s adopted.” Barsad says in bored tone as Bane brushes off the debris and stiffly flees into the back room.


	11. Chapter 11

 

When John gets back from his break later that day, he does a double-take at the woman leaning across the front counter. His jaw actually drops when he sees Barsad give her a full, warm smile. 

 

“Selina?”

 

The woman turns, giving John a wide smile. “Hey, stranger.”

 

“What are you doing here? And what are you wearing?” John asks, gaping at the leather catsuit she’s sporting.

 

“He does good work, doesn’t he?” Selina twirls in a circle, giving John the full view.

 

“Who does?” 

 

“Barsad,” Selina tells him, winking at the man in question.

 

John gapes at Barsad, whose cheeks are turning pink. “You made that?”

 

“You doubt it?” Barsad glares.

 

“Frankly, yes. Is that what our custom orders are all about? Leather work?”

 

“What did you think he was doing up there?” Selina asks.

 

“Um, nothing. I didn’t think it was this!” John can’t stop staring at the exquisite detailing of the suit. He’ll say one thing for Barsad- he knows how to take proper measurements.

 

“He’s a master craftsman,” Selina purrs. “Not too shabby behind the camera either, from what I’ve seen.”

 

“What? Are you showing people?” John squawks, trying to see what’s on the laptop screen in front of Barsad.

 

“Don’t be shy, doll, you look good.” Selina pets his hair.

 

John glares at her and Barsad smacks him in the back of the head.

 

“Ouch! Geez, you two are quite the pair.” As soon as John says it, he realizes Selina must be the one making Barsad smile over the phone. Now that it’s in front of him, it’s obvious. Barsad has it bad.

 

“Selina told me you went to school together,” Barsad says awkwardly, clearly trying to make small talk to keep Selina there longer.

 

“Yeah, she kicked my ass in every class.” John rubs the back of his head, trying to decide if he’s going to help or hinder Barsad’s cause.

 

“You were a worthy opponent,” Selina says with a nod. “John is an excellent counselor.”

 

“That’s surprising, seeing as he can barely string together a coherent sentence on a good day.” Barsad smirks. Okay, hinder it is.

 

“Selina used to date my roommate, Bruce. You remember him, right?” John grins as Barsad’s eyes narrow.

 

“I wouldn’t call it ‘dating’,” Selina laughs. “But he’s a nice distraction, now and then.”

 

“Oh, that reminds me!” John says, going over to the fetish wall and pulling down one of the swings. “Bruce asked me to pick this up for him. You should come over soon, Selina.”

 

Selina throws her head back and laughs. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him.”

 

John throws a roll of bondage tape onto the swing and grins at Barsad. “Ring me up, would ya?”

 

If looks could kill, John would be a goner as Barsad enters the items in the register. John asks Selina about any counseling positions she might know about, and taps his bank card.

 

“You should have bought the superhero outfit, you looked like you were having fun.” Selina whispers when she hugs him goodbye.

 

John blushes and laughs. “I’ll see you later.”

 

“I’ll be in touch about that idea I had,” she tells Barsad seriously and leaves.

 

“What idea?” John asks.

 

“You are aware that tardiness will be reflected in your paycheque, are you not?” Barsad snaps.

 

“Oh, shit.” John hurries to the back to drop off his purchase.

 

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Barsad tells him after setting John the task of unpacking a case of fleshlights.

 

“I know, but I seriously don’t see the appeal of these things.” John picks up the beige demo tube.

 

“Not that, although you’re free to try it out in the bathroom on your next break. There’s soap for it under the sink.”

 

John drops the fleshlight back on the shelf and wipes his hand on his pants. “Ew.”

 

“You should know how to use everything in the store.” Barsad says.

 

“I know how to use it, fuck you very much. I just don’t want to. It can’t be comparable to the real thing.”

 

Barsad shrugs. “To each their own.”

 

“Besides, it’s um. The wrong hole,” John says, his back to the counter.

 

“There’s an insert for that.”

 

“Oh. Huh.” John examines one of the boxes more closely.

 

“I was speaking of the bondage tape.” Barsad says impatiently.

 

“You were?” John frowns, turning to him.

 

“Yes, when I said you’re not fooling anyone. I know it’s for you, not Bruce.”

 

“How do you know that?” 

 

“Selina told me Bruce doesn’t like being restrained due to childhood trauma.”

 

John puts the box down. “She shouldn’t have told you that.”

 

“Perhaps not. Although, it does make it easier for me to suggest alternatives that will not bother him the next time he comes in.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s his business, not yours. Or hers, for that matter,” John says, hackles rising.

 

“Calm yourself, I will not repeat it. I only meant to tell you that I know the tape is for your own enjoyment and that you have no need to hide your preferences from me.”

 

“Oh. That’s, um, strangely supportive of you. Thanks.” John turns back to the wall, making sure the fleshlights are all straight.

 

“I’m sure Bane would be more than happy to help you explore-”

 

“So, you got the hots for Selina, huh?” John interrupts loudly, turning to glare.

 

“Point taken.” Barsad nods.

 

John opens a new box and groans at the packages of ‘Ryan’s Secrets’. The Seacrest lookalike with his cheesy grin is offering his ‘microphone’ to the young woman on her knees in front of him, and John has no idea how this is one of their best sellers.

 

“So, hypothetically, if I wanted to buy one of the outfits from this morning,” John starts refilling the display. “What does my discount look like?”

 

“The standard forty percent off.” Barsad says and John can hear the smirk in his voice, the bastard.

 

“So the one with the cape…”

 

“Already sold.”

 

“What?” John turns around, knocking several boxes to the floor.

 

Barsad blinks at him. “You object to me selling products we have for sale?”

 

“No, but I was gone, what, twenty minutes? Someone came in and bought it in that time?”

 

“Yes.”

 

John huffs and turns back.

 

“Wait, there has to be more than one, right? Different sizes?”

 

“No.” Barsad starts clicking around on the laptop.

 

“How is that possible? The rest of them had various sizes.”

 

“That was a special order. There was only one, and now it’s gone.”

 

“Did you make me wear someone else’s order? Why the hell did we take pictures if it was already sold?” John demands, his face heating.

 

“It did not belong to anyone before you tried it on. And no, I will not tell you who purchased it.”

 

“Can we order another one?” John asks hopefully.

  
Barsad smirks at his computer screen. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some crack!fic on this terribly stressful election day! And don't forget to vote!

John doesn’t work on Sunday, so he lets Bruce talk him into going to a club after work Saturday night. They get VIP treatment and John takes advantage of the free drinks to let loose and spend most of the night on the dance floor. He dances mostly with women because he’s not looking to hook up and their roaming hands are just another part of the dance, not an invitation.

 

He’s on the floor with Bruce’s newest paramour, Ginger, when large hands curve over his hips and pull him back against the warm, solid chest of someone very eager to show John his credentials. For a second, John thinks it might be Bane; hopes, really, but the guy is wearing enough cologne to choke a horse, and John pries his hands off and dances away.

 

Bruce laughs at him when he makes his way back to their table and the bouncer stops his pursuer from following.

 

“You’re such a twink.”

 

“I am not,” John grumbles, taking a swig of water.

 

“I know, but he doesn’t. You really draw the big guys, don’t you?” Bruce shakes his head at the bouncer when the guy tries to argue his way past the velvet rope.

 

“He’s all dumb muscle. I could probably take him if I needed to.”

 

“Right, because you prefer brute strength.”

 

John shrugs.

 

“Tall, with muscles gained from actual work, and able to pick you up and throw you across the room?”

 

“It wouldn’t suck.” John admits.

 

“Maybe a guy who’s good with his hands.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Who knows how to tie you up in knots,” Bruce guesses.

 

“Oh, fuck off,” John complains, reaching for his beer.

 

“Your life would be a lot easier if you just admitted that you want him,” Bruce says as Ginger appears and climbs into his lap.

 

“Want who?” she asks.

 

“No on,.” John says sternly. Bruce shakes his head and pulls Ginger closer.

 

John spends the rest of the evening drinking enough to ensure he won’t be awake to hear Bruce and Ginger testing out Bruce’s new swing, then pours himself into bed around three.

 

At six his phone rings, jarring him out of a very strange dream involving acrobats and strongmen.

 

“Ugh?” 

 

“John?” A female voice asks louder than necessary.

 

John huffs an affirmation, too hungover to form actual words.

 

“It’s Selina. I need a favour.”

 

“Uh-un.” He shakes his head for emphasis and groans when the room starts spinning.

 

“Yes, John. You owe me,” Selina coos.

 

“Uhn?”

 

“I mentioned your name when my boss asked me if I knew anyone who might be interested in filling a maternity leave position at the shelter. He’s awaiting your CV.”

 

“Uhhhh,” John says, feeling emotional.

 

“So you’re going to do me a favour, aren’t you?” 

 

“Ugh. Uh-huh.” John smushes his face into his pillow, only to snap it back up when Selina tells him what the favour is and hangs up.

 

Selina, it seems, is the ‘friend’ who helps Bane with his shibari workshops, only she’s pulled a muscle in her calf and can’t make it that afternoon. She wants John to take her place. With Bane. And rope. 

 

John moans loudly until Bruce pounds on the wall that separates their rooms. The workshop isn’t until two, so John sets his alarm for noon and crawls back under the covers. In six hours he’ll be better equipped to freak out about it.


	13. Chapter 13

When his alarm goes off, John feels like death. His mouth is dry and his eyes are itchy. He stands under the shower head for five minutes before he remembers to turn it on, then he screams when only cold water comes out. 

 

He fumbles with the knobs until it’s warm enough to stand under, then slumps against the tile, wondering what he did to deserve the hell he’s in. It’s all Bruce’s fault, he decides, and with that settled, he gets to work bringing himself back from the dead.

 

His phone is blinking when he gets out.

 

**2pm@the room above the store. Don’t be late! xxSelina**

 

John stares at the message blankly for a few seconds before he remembers what it’s about, then he sinks to the floor and stares at it some more.

 

John jumps at the knock on the door. “You alive in there?” 

 

“Unfortunately,” John croaks, climbing to his feet and opening the door. 

 

Bruce frowns at him. “You look like shit.”

 

“Thanks, that helps.” John shoulders past him, continuing down the hall to his room.

 

Bruce follows him, leaning against the door jamb while John sorts through a pile of clothes on the floor. “Did you get alcohol poisoning? I didn’t think you drank that much.” 

 

“I’m fine, please go away.” 

 

“Hi, I’m Bruce, have we met?” Bruce flashes him a fake smile.

 

“How are you so fucking chipper? You drank more than I did.”

 

“And then I worked it off, whereas you came in here and passed out with your whiskey dick in your hand.”

 

John snorts. “I didn’t even make it that far.”

 

“It’s not like you didn’t have prospects. You could have brought someone home with you.”

 

“I don’t want to bring  _ someone _ home. I don’t do that.” John sniffs a shirt and grimaces.

 

“Did you forget to do laundry again?”

 

“I’ve been busy. Can I borrow a shirt?”

 

“Right, that work thing you’re always going on about. And sure, take your pick, I’m going out. Throw your laundry in with mine and my service will pick it up.” Bruce says over his shoulder as he walks away.

 

John’s tempted, he really is because he has about forty minutes to get dressed, eat, brush his teeth, and have a complete panic attack about the fact that Bane is going to be tying him up this afternoon.

 

He gives in and kicks his clothes down the hall to Bruce’s room. He looks at the swing hanging in the corner and almost considers seeing if he can get himself into it without feeling like an idiot, then he remembers Ginger’s moaning last night and slams the door shut. Maybe Bane can build a swing around him if John asks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ropes, subspace, frottage. Enjoy!

The Range Rover is parked in its’ usual spot and John worries for a minute that Barsad is there, as well. Bane and a room full of strangers is one thing, but if Barsad is watching with his infuriating little smirk, John won’t be held responsible for his actions.

 

The stairs are at the back of the building, and John checks his watch before ascending. He carefully planned it so he’d arrive right on time. No need to prolong his exposure to Bane and chance embarrassing himself any more than is necessary. He opens the door at the top of the stairs to find Bane, and only Bane, sorting through coils of black rope on a small table next to a mat on the floor.

 

“John?” His voice is shocked, even through the mask.

 

“Uh, hi. Am I late?” There’s sweat on his upper lip and he wipes at it nervously.

 

“For what?” Bane cocks his head to the side.

 

“For the class? Selina told me two.”

 

Bane tenses. “The class starts at two-thirty. Is Selina not coming?”

 

Of course it fucking does, he thinks. “She pulled a muscle and asked me to sub. Well, not sub,” John chokes out. “Take her place. Um, you know. Not, not the other thing.”

 

Bane raises an eyebrow.

 

“Right, if you’d rather I didn’t.” John turns to go.

 

“Stay,” Bane commands, making the hair on John’s neck to stand on end.

 

He closes the door quietly and turns. Bane is standing directly behind him, and how the fuck does he move so quietly, John wonders.

 

“Have you done this before?” Bane asks gently.

 

“Uh, no. Nothing like this.” John laughs nervously, nearly melting when Bane squeezes his shoulder.

 

“You should stretch. We’re only three weeks into the class, so there will be nothing too taxing, but it’s best to be prepared.” Bane’s voice is hushed, a soft burr through the mask and John can’t take his eyes off it. He wonders, briefly, how it would feel against his neck.

 

“Does it bother you?” Bane fingers the straps that wrap around his head.

 

“No, no, it’s very...rogueish.” John smiles. “I kind of like it. Makes you look dangerous.”

 

“Do you seek danger, John Blake?” Bane asks, bowing his head just a little closer.

 

John’s phone beeps before he can answer and Bane takes a step back, shaking his head a little. John wants to pull him back, to say  _ yes, very much, especially if that danger is you _ , but the moment has passed and his phone beeps again.

 

He fishes it out of his pocket and rolls his eyes at the messages from Selina.

 

**You better be there by now.**

 

**You can thank me later. XX**

 

He shuts off the phone and stuffs it back in his pocket.

 

“You’ll need to empty your pockets,” Bane says, watching him. “And take off your shirt, if you’re amenable. Selina usually wears tighter clothing, so it’s not an issue. My students are learning, and they need an unobstructed view of what I’ve done.”

 

“It’s Bruce’s shirt.” John blurts, then pulls it over his head. “I mean, that’s why it’s so baggy.”

 

“Do you often wear Bruce Wayne’s clothing?” Bane asks, and there’s no inflection, but it still feels like an accusation.

 

“No, normally I’m too afraid to. His shirts cost more than I make in a month, but I gave him this one last Christmas and I’m not worried I’ll accidentally ruin it.” John smirks. “I forgot to do laundry.

 

Bane nods, his eyes flitting over John’s bare chest, and John knows Bane’s just seeing what he has to work with, but he can’t help but preen a little. He’s no Bane, but John knows he looks good.

 

“Stretch,” Bane grunts, turning away to dig in his bag. 

 

John has his arm pulled across this chest when Bane pulls out a length of red rope, and damned if John doesn’t get a little hard at the sight of it. It’s different from the one Bane uses for store displays, he’s sure of it. It looks softer, more worn, and John suddenly can’t wait to feel it against his skin.

 

“What kind of rope is that?” he asks, bending over to touch his toes. Bane watches him for a minute before answering.

 

“Hemp. Handmade.”

 

“No shit, you made that?” John asks.

 

“Yes,” Bane puts down the rope and unbuckles his mask, carefully storing it in the bag.

 

“Do you make all the ropes?” John is getting a little nervous now that they’re close enough to the start of the class for Bane to remove the mask. 

 

“No.”

 

“Just that one.”

 

“Yes.”

 

They stare at each other for a minute. John has no idea how to explain to Bane how excited and terrified he is over what’s about to happen. 

 

“Do you have any injuries I don’t know about?” Bane asks, breaking the silence.

 

“I don’t know, which ones do you know about?” John laughs.

 

“Fractured left distal radius, approximately fifteen years ago. Bent right clavical, approximately ten years ago. Stab wound on your upper, right thigh, approximately four years, and sometime in the past year you broke your middle finger on your left hand,” Bane lists.

 

“Would you believe me if I said they were all Bruce’s fault?” John smiles.

 

“Yes.”

 

John laughs. “How did you know all that anyway?”

 

“I have my ways.” The corner of Bane’s mouth quirks up and he starts wrapping the red rope around his forearm.

 

John can’t help but follow the movement. “Kind of like how Barsad knows my social security number without me telling him?”

 

“No,” Bane huffs a laugh. “Barsad has boundary issues.”

 

“And you don’t?” John raises his eyebrows at the rope.

 

“I’m very good with boundaries. I excel at finding them.”

 

“And pushing them, I bet.” John gives him a sly smile.

 

“We’ll see.” Bane says, his eyes going to the the door. “Our class is arriving. Please remain quiet.”

 

John stands in front of the mat, hands folded in front of him, and watches Bane’s student’s file in. There are six of them, four men, and two women. They’re smiling and nod to him as they pass, settling into pairs on the floor. John realizes they’re probably couples, and relaxes a little. It’s not like you’d let just anyone tie you up, he supposes. It would take a certain kind of person to just walk into a situation like this with no experience and no prior agreement. A person like him, apparently. 

 

Bane stands beside him, placing a warm, broad hand to the small of John’s back. “This is John, he’ll be modeling for us today.”

 

John smiles and leans into Bane’s touch. 

 

“Now that you’ve learned the basics of knotting, we will move onto restraining your partner.”

 

John shivers a little at that, and Bane must feel it because his thumb strokes slowly over John’s spine. 

 

“We will be tying a rope armbender, a basic tie that limits the mobility of the arms and the elbows, providing a secure, supported restraint. This is a favourable place to start because it puts your partner in an attractive position, and will have a satisfying effect on their state.”

 

John finds himself nodding along, liking what he hears. He has no real idea what any of it means, but Bane sounds confident and powerful, so John’s all for it. Yes, sir. More, please.

 

“John, on your knees.” Bane pushes him forward gently and John drops to the mat, enjoying the slide of Bane’s hand up his back and into his hair. Bane keeps talking, and John hears words like ‘rigger’, ‘natural curves’, and ‘sub-space’, but as soon as the rope touches his skin, John tunes out. 

 

His breaths grow heavy and his eyelids droop as Bane curls the rope around his wrists and forearms. It’s soft and smooth, and Bane’s hands are warm when they touch him, adjusting the ropes and tightening the hold. Some moves he repeats for his students, and with every shift of rope John drifts further and further away.

 

His arms are behind his back at an angle that’s almost uncomfortable, but Bane keeps running his fingers through John’s hair while he shortens the tension, and John doesn’t mind so much. He can feel the rope running over his shoulders and across his chest, and he feels so secure and powerless that he relaxes into it. Strong fingers press against his jaw, tilting it up and dimly he registers Bane saying his name.

 

“Hmm?” John’s eyelids flutter.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Mm, s’good,” he mumbles, his tongue feeling clumsy. Bane is standing in front of him and if he just fell forward a few inches, he could rub his face against the soft, black shirt covering Bane’s abdomen. He tries to do just that, but Bane grips him by the shoulders, pushing him back into position.

 

John resettles and kneels contently, further losing track of time while he listens to the deep cadence of Bane’s voice, unable to make out the actual words. The next thing he’s aware of, Bane is crouching in front of him, cradling John’s jaw in one of his big hands.

 

“John? The class is over. I’m going to untie you now.”

 

John scrunches up his nose and pulls away, letting out a soft whine. He’s not ready to be done yet. He wants to stay tied up while Bane pets at him some more.

 

“I had no idea you would be like this,” Bane whispers in awe, straightening.

 

John shuffles forward, and wow, do his knees ache, but Bane’s not stopping him this time and he lets out a pleased huff into the warm cotton of Bane’s shirt. His stomach is firm but comfortable, and John sighs contently, surrounded by the smell of Bane.

 

He wants to live here. Tied up, and secure, and totally at Bane’s mercy. He trusts Bane to take care of him, to treat him well, and to let him take his time while he rubs up against Bane’s muscular leg, and oh, dear, John finds he’s doing just that. He’s been hard for a while, he thinks, because after just a few thrusts, he’s on the brink. Bane’s canvas pants and John’s own fleece sweats and underwear are chafing him, but it only adds to the high of being here, and doing this. 

 

Bane’s breathing is getting rough, and John wonders if he needs to put his mask back on, but then Bane threads his fingers through John’s hair and cradles his skull while John ruts faster. The body under his cheek is expanding and contracting quickly, creating a nice, counterpoint for the rhythm for John’s heartbeat as he nears the edge. 

 

“John,” Bane says in wonder, and that’s it, that’s enough to send John careening over the edge and into the softness of his afterglow. 

 

He’s vaguely aware of Bane lying him on his side and removing the ropes. His arms feel like jelly, and he doesn’t think he can stand. The next thing he knows, he’s in the front seat of the Range Rover, curled into Bane’s side as the vehicle pulls up to John’s building. He blinks awake, pawing at the passenger door, but Bane hauls him across the seat, pulling him out his side and into his arms.

 

“Settle,” Bane whispers, quiet, but firm, and John does. He rolls over once he’s deposited on his bed, and he has no idea if Bruce is here and saw him like this, of if Bane just plucked John’s keys out of his pocket and let them in. At some point Bane must have wrestled John back into his shirt, but John doesn’t remember, and doesn’t really care. Bane took care of him. Just the thought of it sends a warm tendril of clarity through John’s mind. Things are a little clearer now, but he feels like he could sleep for three days. 

 

The bed creaks as Bane stands, and John scrabbles to catch his hand before he’s too far away.

 

“Stay,” he croaks, eyes closed.

 

“I do not think that is a good idea,” Bane says carefully.

 

John frowns. Did he do something wrong?

 

“No, John. You performed beautifully. Had I known you would be this receptive, I never would have tied you.” Bane tries to pull his hand away, but John grips harder.

 

“Then stay.” He cracks his eyelids open, staring up at Bane in the dim of his bedroom.

 

“We haven’t discussed this,” Bane says quietly, and it’s the first time John’s heard him sound less than sure about anything, so he smiles, tugging Bane down to sit on the bed.

 

“Do you want to stay?” John asks, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

 

“Very much,” Bane admits, ducking his head.

 

John grins. He wants to kiss him, but he knows how sensitive Bane is about his mouth, so he settles for a dry press of lips to the palm of Bane’s hand. “I want you to stay.”

 

Bane studies John’s face for a moment, then lays down carefully beside him. John shuffles around the bed, shucking off his soiled sweats and underwear, and pulling off the t-shirt. Bane lays still, watching him with wide eyes. 

 

“Well, those are ruined. S’this okay?” John smiles sleepily. Bane nods, cautiously extending his arm for John to lay his head on. John rubs his face against Bane’s shoulder, settling into the warmth and density of him. He’s asleep within seconds, and doesn’t wake up until a door slams somewhere in the apartment. 

 

His shoulders ache, and he’s in need of a shower, but he feels a contentment deep down into his bones. There was a hollow inside him that he wasn’t aware had been empty that now feels fit to burst. He rolls over to curl back into Bane’s space, but other than him, the bed is empty.


	15. Chapter 15

John’s on the couch, playing Halo when Bruce gets home. He’d started out with Mario Kart, but found himself needing something a little more destructive. 

 

“How was your day, dear? Are you feeling a little more human now?” Bruce leans on the back of the couch and ruffles John’s hair.

 

“Yep.” John says, distractedly.

 

Bruce jumps over the couch, jostling John and causing him to drop the controller. John picks it up and goes back to his game.

 

“Okay, what happened?” Bruce says, grabbing the controller.

 

“Give it back,” John holds his hand out, eyes not meeting Bruce’s face.

 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong.” John insists, shaking his hand for the controller.

 

“Dude, I touched your hair. That’s like number one on John’s ‘Don’t Fucking Do It’ list. And you didn’t even flinch when I nearly sat on you.”

 

“I’m hungover, remember?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Hungover John isn’t a zombie, he’s irritable and cantankerous.” 

 

“Irritable and cantankerous are the same thing.” John points out.

 

“I know, that’s how fucking bad you are hungover,” Bruce tells him. “Now what happened?”

 

John leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

 

He could feel Bruce’s eyes on him, checking for any obvious signs of distress.

 

“Does it have anything to do with Selina texting me to tell me to stay out of the apartment all day?”

 

John closed his eyes. “What’s it like to have friends who know what boundaries are, I wonder?” he muttered.

 

“John-”

 

“Bruce, let it go. I know what happened, and why, and I have to decide how to deal with it.”

 

“Fine, it’s you life.” He hands John the controller.

 

“Thank you.”

 

John restarts the level and they fall into a heavy silence. Bruce watches him play for a few minutes before heading to bed. John calls out to him before he disappears down the hall. Bruce turns around.

 

“Let me know if there’s anything open at the office, okay?” John keeps his eyes on the tv, intent on the game even though his player is walking repeatedly into a wall.

 

“Sure.” Bruce frowns and wanders into his bedroom.

 

John throws the controller to the side and draws his knees to his chest, wondering how he managed to fuck things up so royally. He likes Bane. Like, really, truly likes the guy. He’s interesting, and attractive, and the whole good with his hands/rope thing is the cherry on top. And Bane seems to genuinely like John. But it’s clear now that grand gestures aren’t Bane’s thing, and John literally humping his leg has scared him off.

 

John bangs his head on his knees. He pushed too hard, too fast, like usual, and now he’s sitting alone, trying to figure out how to get through it with his dignity intact. Well, no, he’s pretty sure any dignity he had was discarded along with his cum-ruined pants. John figures Bane is the type to pretend it never even happened, so maybe things will be bearable. 

 

It’s not like Bane’s going to ask him to another workshop, and John’s worked with people he doesn’t talk to before. Bane will probably just change the schedule so they’re working opposite hours instead of together. It’ll be fine. Bane will ignore him, and John will move on, just like he always has. He’s decided. He’s resolute, so John doesn’t understand why it feel like his heart is breaking.


	16. Chapter 16

 

Barsad’s not at the store when John arrives Monday morning so he lets himself in and goes about readying the store for opening. Part of him had been worried that Bane would be waiting for him when he got there. To confront him, to scold him; hell, to fire him, but John is relieved to find no sign of him.

 

By noon, John’s started to worry that Bane and Barsad have skipped town and simply not bothered to inform their sole employee. Calls and texts to Barsad’s phone have gone unanswered. John even tried emailing him, but got no response. There’s no way in hell he’s calling Bane unless the store is on fire.

John eats his lunch behind the counter, helping customers between bites. He’ll never get over how busy the store is on Mondays. It’s like everyone went to Church on Sunday and are now working with a clean slate, just itching to get it dirty.

 

He supplies a woman with three hundred dollars worth of bridal party accessories and a faucet plug to forty-something man in a very expensive suit who gives John his card and a wink. A barely legal (he checked) twink with glitter on his jeans buys a dong that’s twelve and a half inches around and a liter of scented lube, holding the door open when he leaves for a very angry, very glaring Barsad. 

 

Barsad looks around the store quickly before leaning over the counter and hissing in John’s face. “What did you do to him?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re-”

 

“Do not lie to me. What did you do to Bane?” Barsad cuts in.

 

John crosses his arms across his chest. “Anything that may or may not have happened between Bane and I is our business, not yours.”

 

“That’s exactly what he said. So you two can get your shit together enough to decide on the party line, but nothing else?”

 

“We didn’t decide on anything, it’s just the truth. If Bane wants to talk to me, he knows where I am. If he doesn’t want to, well, he knows when I won’t be here.”

 

Barsad narrows his eyes. “Should you be apologizing to him?”

 

“Probably,” John huffs. “But I’m not going to do that through you.”

 

Barsad nods, straightening up. “Good, do it in person.”

 

“But I’m not going to force him to listen to me. I understand completely if he never wants to talk to me again.”

 

“You’re both idiots.” 

 

John laughs, weary. “Yeah, most likely.”

 

Barsad hums and goes into the back room. John settles into busy work, cleaning the glass cabinets, restacking the displays, and adding air to the life-sized blow-up doll in the novelty section. He ducks his head in the back to ask Barsad to cover the front while he uses the bathroom, only to find the office and stockroom empty. Stealthy bugger must have snuck out the back door. John hurries to the bathroom and finishes his shift in a mopey stupor.

 

When closing time comes, he shuts off the open sign and starts cashing out. He’s just putting the cash drawer in the safe when the front floor beeps.  He looks up, sure he’d locked it, and sees a large, hulking shadow in the dimness of the store. Bane is standing in the middle of the store, staring into the camera tied to the monitor John’s looking at.

 

John closes the safe and goes out front. If Bane is there to scream at him, he doesn’t want to deny Barsad the option of a play-back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! More soon!


	17. Chapter 17

Knowing Bane is waiting for him in the dark of the store, sends shivers up and down John’s spine. He can hear Bane breathing through the mask and feels simultaneously guilty and turned on. He can’t deny the look of Bane with it on gets him going, but John doesn’t want to be the reason Bane needs the mask hours earlier than he normally does.

 

“Hey,” John stops short of the counter. Bane’s at the other end, arms motionless at his sides.

 

“John.”

 

“So, I guess we should talk.” John shoves his hands in his back pockets, rocking back on his heels.

 

Bane grunts, looking somewhere over John’s left shoulder. John bristles, he’s not the only one at fault here. He may have gone too far while he didn’t have control over himself, but Bane’s the one who put him there. And Bane’s the one who ran away.

 

“I guess I’ll just say my part, and you can take it or leave it. It’s up to you.” John says.

 

“John, I-”

 

“No, just let me get it out, okay? I know I was out of line. Believe me, I get that. But I had no idea I would react like that. Like, none. I never would have agreed to let you...restrain me if I’d thought acting like that was a possibility.”

 

“John,” Bane steps forward.

 

“Oh my god, just let me finish, please! Can’t you see how horrible and awkward this is for me? Like, I know you’re chill in any situation, but I acted pathetic, and needy, and wholly inappropriate, and that’s really embarrassing for me, okay?”

 

“You were beautiful like that.” Bane rasps, throwing John’s entire argument off kilter.

 

“A-what?” John stutters.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone fall into sub-space that quickly. It was remarkable. At first I flattered myself in thinking it was me you were reacting to. But it is the act of being restrained that you find alluring. I was merely a vehicle for your desire.”

 

“No, wait a minute-”

 

“Yes, John. I encouraged you to find your pleasure, you know I did. I imagined. Well, I imagined a great many things while you were at my feet. None of them excuse my behaviour. I should never have continued with the demonstration once I knew how deep you were. It was irresponsible and dangerous, and I apologize.” Bane looks down at the floor.

 

“You son of a bitch,” John says with wonder. “You’re determined to take all the blame for this, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter what I say because you’ve cast yourself as the villain, and you’re not going to listen to me at all.”

“I should never-” Bane starts.

“No, shut the hell up. You don’t get to talk anymore, I’m in charge.” John cuts the distance between them in half, stopping when Bane takes a step back. “We were both unprepared for that happened, okay? Can we agree on that at least?”

Bane watches John closely, nodding.

“Right, so we did the thing. It turned out better, or maybe worse than we thought it would, depending on how you look at it, and things got weird. I think, considering our relationship, and the circumstances, we both did the best with what we had.”

“Letting you rut my leg was hardly doing my best,” Bane argues.

“What do you think would have happened if you’d said no to me at that moment?” 

Bane looks away.

“Something worse than what did happen, right? I could have had a, what’s it called?”

“A drop.” Bane mumbles.

“A drop. You made sure that didn’t happen.”

“I took advantage,” Bane snarls.

John surges forward, catching him on either side of the mask, his hands holding Bane still. Large hands clamp onto his biceps, and John pulls Bane closer until he can feel Bane’s breath through the metal grill.

“You really didn’t,” John says slowly.

“But-”

“No,” John says with a smile. “I wanted everything I got, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, God, you took me home and tucked me into bed, for Christ’s sake.”

Bane closes his eyes and huffs through the mask.

“Although I could have done without the waking up alone part. I get why you did it, but a note would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

“I feared you would hate me when you woke.”

“I kind of did, but only because you weren’t there.” John promises. “And it’s not just being restrained that took me so deep, you know.”

Bane makes a humming noise and John’s so close he can feel the mask vibrate.

“It was you. I felt like I was floating outside myself, free like I’ve never felt before, but your voice anchored me so I was never afraid of getting lost. It was like I’d been shrunken down into a much smaller version of myself and was able to retreat inside my body to wander around, knowing you’d keep me safe and bring me back when it was time.

Bane makes a rumbling sound through the mask and John grips him tighter.

“I. Want. You. I’ve wanted you since the minute I first saw you. I don’t know how to say it any plainer than that.” John stares into Bane’s eyes, desperate for a reaction.

“Why?” Bane asks, voice full of wonder.

“Because you’re frustrating, and intimidating, and you give absolutely nothing away, and for some reason that gets me going,” John smiles. “And you’re also careful and kind. You’re one of the most interesting men I’ve ever met, and you’re gorgeous to boot. But most of all, because when I’m with you I feel like I could be more. You make me want to challenge myself, and I really like that.”

The next thing John knows, he’s surrounded by Bane as he’s picked up and deposited on the counter. Bane’s arms wrap around his waist and the cool metal of the mask is pressed against his neck, and  _ god _ , does it feel even better than John imagined. Bane is trembling so John rubs his hands over massive shoulders in a way he hopes is soothing.

After a minute Bane pulls back, tracing a finger up John’s neck and over his jaw. “Do you remember your visit here last year?”

John laughs, startled. “A little. I remember that I embarrassed myself in front of you and ran away. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Do not apologize. Your pants were sufficiently tight; they entertained me for months.” Bane rubs his thumb over John’s lower lip as John gapes at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Mmm, you were lovely and aroused, and I have an excellent imagination.” Bane says, his eyes crinkling.

John swallows thickly, fingers clumsy as they unbuckle the straps of the mask. “What exactly did you imagine doing to me that night?”

Bane pulls back and allows John to remove the mask, watching as it’s set carefully on the counter, two feet away. When Bane’s gaze return to him, John’s pleasantly surprised by the depth of want he sees there. 

“I would have taken steps to ensure you could not flee from me again.” He says, and suddenly John’s wrists are caught and trapped by a length of bondage tape.

John stutters out a breath, his dick going hard so fast it almost hurts. Bane raises his eyebrows, silently asking if this is allowed. John tugs a little at the tape, happy with the room he has, then holds them out to Bane with a smile.

“What else?”

Bane wraps his wrists twice more, then tosses the tape on the counter, raising John’s linked arms with one hand and pulling him closer to the edge of the counter with the other. Bane ducks in to nip at John’s ear, growling as he rubs up against the vee of John’s spread legs. John drapes his arms over Bane’s shoulders, thumbs pressing against the back of his skull to urge him closer.

“Then,” Bane continues between bites to John’s neck and jaw. “I would tie you in place and have my way with you.”

“Show me,” John whispers, wrapping his legs around Bane’s waist and grinding his erection against Bane’s stomach.

Bane pulls back to look at him, and he’s panting just as hard as John. They’re both here, in the moment, no questions or sub-space between them to make the other wonder about intent. They both want whatever the other is offering, and the second Bane understands that he digs his fingers into John’s ass and lifts him off the counter.

“Fuck, finally,” John groans, leaning in to suck on Bane’s neck.

Bane growls and stops, grabbing bottle of lube from the display and a condom from the specialty dish.

John blinks at him. “Those are the-”

“I know,” Bane snaps and kicks open the dressing room door. He presses John into the wall, taking hold of his wrists and slipping them over the garment hook, high above their heads.

“Oh,” John says, wriggling a little against the restraint. “Oh, yes.”

Bane kisses him then. It’s soft, and sweet, and not at all what John thought it would be, but somehow this is better. It’s not just a wild moment between them, it’s the start of something new, and big, and important. John kisses back, sliding his tongue over Bane’s bisected lips until Bane opens up and John can explore a little. He’s thought long and hard about Bane’s mouth and it does not disappoint. His tongue is clever and tangles with John’s, teasing and coaxing moans out of him until John is half crazy and biting for more.

Finally, finally, Bane’s hands go to John’s pants, deftly popping the button and unzipping him. The head of John’s cock is peeking out and Bane makes a satisfied noise before he swipes the pad of his thumb through the precome beaded at the top. John jerks in surprise as Bane smiles and sucks the fluid off his finger.

“Hold still,” Bane instructs while he shimmies John’s pants down and off while keeping John suspended enough that his bindings don’t tear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck you,” John whispers as Bane runs his hands up the back of John’s thighs, fingers dipping into his crack when he gets to John’s ass.

“We’re getting to that,” Bane rumbles, tugging his own pants down far enough with one hand for his cock to spring free. John can’t see it, but he can feel it digging into his skin where thigh meets ass, and he knows it wasn’t a mistake that Bane stopped for one of the larger sized condoms on their way across the store.

He shivers with desire, mouth crashing into Bane’s and arching his back to try to get the head of Bane’s cock to slip a little to the right.

“Patience,” Bane purrs, holding John against the wall with only his body. He pops the cap on the lube with one hand and spreads it over his fingers where John can see. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

John nods, panting as Bane rubs his fingers together. “Okay, yeah. But you can, a little.”

Bane’s slick hand disappears and John holds his breath, waiting. When nothing happens, he looks up at Bane, who has a eyebrow cocked. “A little?”

John bites his bottom lip and nods, nearly tearing through the sensitive flesh when Bane’s finger finds his hole and sinks all the way in with one smooth slide. John moans as Bane draws out and thrusts back in, rumbling his approval.

It’s been awhile since he’s been with anyone, but John quite like things up his ass and it isn’t long before Bane has three thick finger sliding easily in and out of him.

“Beautiful,” Bane whispers, pressing a kiss to John’s temple. “You will take me well.”

“God, yes, now,” John pants, doing all he can to push into the stretch. But Bane has him tight against the wall, hands and hips pinned so all he can do is take what Bane gives him and beg for more. John, it turns out, is really, really good at begging.

Bane’s cock has been marking its own slippery path across John’s skin while Bane prepares him, and it’s driving John half mad. To have what he wants so close, and to be able to do nothing to get it is wearing on his nerves.

“Use your words,” Bane demands when John starts whimpering.

John keens when he Bane puts the condom wrapped between his teeth and tears it open. “Please, oh please god, Bane, fuck me.”

Fingers slide out of him, leaving him cold and empty, but soon he can feel the head of Bane’s massive cock against his hole, and Bane kisses him chastely on the lips. “All you ever need do is ask.”

John cries out as Bane presses in, blunt and unforgiving, and not stopping until he’s fully seated and pulsing inside John.

“Jesus, fuck,” John chokes out.

“You’re on fire,” Bane says in wonder, and that’s all the warning John gets before Bane pulls out and slams back in.

John’s thighs are screaming, but he grips them tighter around Bane, the only way he has of holding on with his hands hooked over his head. Bane’s hands are on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart as he fucks John into the wall. He’s going to have bruises that match Bane’s fingers in the morning, and the thought has him clenching down hard as heat pools in his gut.

Bane snarls, thrusting faster into John, his head tucked into John’s neck, his breath hot and moist over John’s skin. He’s surrounded completely by Bane, and John can’t believe his good fortune. His own cock is rubbing between them, making a mess of both their shirts, but it’s not enough, and when Bane shifts slightly and starts hitting John’s prostate, he needs more, and he needs it right now.

“Bane, Bane,” he gasps. “Touch me. Fuck, I need to come, right fucking now.”

Bane draws back, slowing a little and making John whine, but a least he’s not the only one losing himself. Bane’s eyes are glassy, his pupils blown as he continues to thrust forcefully into John.

“You are perfection,” he tells John, who nods and grits his teeth.

“I know, thank you, but I need you to touch my cock. Like, now.”

Bane chuckles and wraps one large hand around John’s aching prick, jerking it lightly.

“Tighter, fuck, harder, don’t stop fucking me.” John squeezes his eyes shut as Bane speeds up.

“You’re mouthy, even now.” Bane comments, deepening his strokes as he shifts to hold John up while touching him.

“Is that a complaint?” John asks, trying to force himself down onto Bane.

“Not at all. Please, be as vocal as you like.” Bane’s grips tightens and he slams into John so hard John’s teeth clack.

“Fuck! Yes!” John cries, eyes going wide. 

Bane keeps up a punishing pace as the heat inside John builds. His feet have gone numb, and all he can feel is Bane’s thick cock in his ass, the rough hand tight around him, and the chafing pull of the tape on his wrists. It’s glorious and John’s orgasm hits him hard, making him clench down with enough force that Bane swears and buries himself deep, riding it out. John spasms around him, his own cock pulsing wet and sticky over Bane’s hand. The second John relaxes, Bane starts fucking him again. He’s sensitive and overstimulated, but each thrust sends a shock of pleasure and pain through his body that he thinks he could quickly become addicted to.

Bane’s going up on his toes and dragging John down to meet him, chasing his own end, and John goes pilant, enjoying the feeling of Bane using him for his own pleasure. When he finally comes, Bane latches onto John’s neck, biting down firmly as he shakes and groans. The bite turns to suckling until John knows there will be a deep, dark hickey, high enough for all to see. He grins as Bane lifts him to unhook John’s wrists and then slides out. By the time Bane has set him on the low bench and slipped off the condom, John is giggling. 

Bane frowns at him. “What is it?”

John wraps his arms around his middle and laughs, feeling elated and foolish, half dressed with his cock out, and happier than he can ever remember feeling. “I fucking love you,” he gasps, collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Bane stills, then pulls up his pants. He scoops John’s pants and underwear off the floor and kneels to help him put them on.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry.” John tries to school his face at Bane’s serious look, but he can’t help the dopey smile that breaks out.

Bane stops with John’s pants pulled only to his knees. He shakes his head and sighs, giving John a helpless look. “I do not understand you.”

John’s smile falters a little. “What do you mean?”

“What was that to you? Our coupling?”

“That? That was fucking amazing,” John crows.

“And?” Bane prompts.

John sobers, taking Bane’s face in his hands. “And only the beginning.”

Bane closes his eyes, allowing John to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“I am not...knowledgeable in relationships.” Bane admits.

John snorts. “Neither am I. I’m pretty shit at them, actually.”

“Then how will we navigate this without hurting one another?” Bane asks, and he looks so worried John has to kiss him.

When he breaks the kiss and pulls back, John smiles. “Bruce is always harping at me about honesty, so that’s maybe a good start. Besides, if we piss each other off too much, you know your brother is going to intervene.”

“I would rather he not be in the middle of this.” Bane quirks an eyebrow.

John laughs, kissing him again. “Me too. So how about this, we talk to each other. Like, actually talk. Like adults in a relationship. If I piss you off, you don’t huff around and give me the silent treatment. If you piss me off, I won’t get mopey and bitch to your brother. And no matter what,” John grabs Bane’s hands, squeezing tight. “Neither one of us just walks away, okay? Because that sucks and I never want to experience that again.”

“Agreed,” Bane nods, squeezing back. “Did you mean what you said?”

John smiles shyly. “About loving you?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Good.” Bane pulls John to his feet and yanks his pants up. John squawks when Bane picks him up and throws him over his shoulder, marching through the store and towards the front door.

“We have to set the alarm.” John slaps Banes ass and Bane groans, turning around and heading into the office to punch in the code. 

“Where are you taking me?” John asks on their way out the door.

“Home,” Bane says, and John feels warm all over.

“You know, it’s a shame Barsad sold that superhero outfit. I saw you eyeing me in that, we could’ve had some fun,” John says, once Bane’s buckled him into the Range Rover and started the engine.

Bane’s ears go red and he darts a look at John. “About that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have no fear! An epilogue will be posted soon!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The very end! Thank you all for reading along and for the wonderful kudos and comments along the way. There has been talk of a crossover with [QueenThayet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet) Arthur/Eames sex shop fics, so when that happens, I will link to them. Super, huge thank you to [oceaxe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe) for her beta and endless encouragement. Enjoy the epilogue!

John stops the car and double checks the address on the building. It’s dark, but he can see the numbers over the entrance in the light of the street lamp. The letter inside the package he’d come home to that afternoon had said he was to be here at precisely midnight, and John was nothing if not punctual. 

He pulls into the alley beside the building, killing the engine and getting out. He shucks off the trench coat he has on and stuffs it in the back seat of the borrowed car. Bruce probably wouldn’t be thrilled with John’s choice of parking spots, but that’s what the fancy-pants car alarm is for, right? And it’s not like John’s going to walk around where he can be seen in the ‘costume’ Bane sent him. It’s the one John modeled in the shop almost six months ago, with a few additions. And though Bane told him he’s the one who bought it, until now he’s refused to let John see it. 

John flexes his shoulders, loving the creak of leather and deciding Bane was right to make him wait. If he’d known what was coming, John would have fretted and second guessed his ability to pull it off. Instead, Bane kept it a secret, sending it to John with only hours for him decide if he intended to play along. John smiles and peels the backing off the adhesive strips on the mask, pressing it firmly to his face. Bane knows him well. 

John steps back to study the fire escape. The instructions in the letter were very specific about using the fire escape to gain entry through a window on the fourth floor. Johns knows very well what happens when he doesn’t follow Bane’s orders, and he’s in no mood to spend the night teased instead of pleased.

Tonight is special. It’s their five month anniversary, and with John back working his counselling gig, he doesn’t see Bane as much as he used to. He still helps out at the shop on weekends; well, he hangs out there, anyway. Barsad refuses to pay him for staring at Bane’s ass all day. The point is, Bane has clearly arranged something special for them, and John is eager to meet his expectations. 

He backs up, eyeing the height of the fire escape, then takes three long strides forward, the yellow cape flapping behind him, and jumps. His green leather gloves grip the cold metal and the ladder comes crashing down. The gloves go to his elbows, and his boots reach his knees, but the shorts still barely cover his ass, and the new vest isn’t exactly made of fleece, so he hurries up the fire escape, eager to be warm again.

The vest may be his favourite part of the costume. It’s a deep cranberry red, really just two strips of material over either shoulder and held together in the front and back with a supple breastplate in the shape of a shield. There are bronze studs where the leather is serged together, giving it a gladiator kind of feel, and it’s a bitch to get in and out of the straps holding it together on the sides, but it holds his shoulders back in a way John knows is meant to mimic Bane’s shibari skills. The thought makes him shiver, or maybe that’s the cool breeze sneaking up his shorts; either way, John hurries up the perilous structure. The best part about the vest is knowing Barsad made it, and that he probably cringed with every stitch. That thought alone warms John the remainder of his trek to the fourth floor.

He stops briefly on the third story to pull the shorts out of his ass crack, and half-heartedly curse his boyfriend’s love of theatrics. He’s really hoping no one in the adjacent building looks out their window and calls the cops on the freak in the cape trying to break into a locked window. Because really, Bane couldn’t have made this easier for him? The lights are out in the apartment, and John prays it’s the right window because he’s about to do something really stupid if it’s not.

He goes through the pockets of his new utility belt and pulls out a small, flat-headed screwdriver. Growing up in foster care taught John all sorts of tricks, and breaking into a locked apartment is the very least of his abilities. He slides the screwdriver under the bottom of the window pane, jimmying it and shoving upwards with a little force. The window pops easily out and John smiles.

“Still got it.” He mentally pats himself on the back while carefully leaning the window against the inside wall.  He climbs in after it, thankful there’s nothing in front of the window as his foot catches the pane and he tumbles onto the floor. He jumps up and brushes himself off, darting a glance around the dark apartment. There are no drapes on any of the windows, but the light provided by the nearest streetlamp is minimal, just enough to make out the vague shape of sparse furniture.

He’s replacing the window when the sound of mechanical breathing reaches him. He stills for a moment, then pops the window back into place before straightening. His entire body feels like a livewire just from hearing the mask. It doesn’t matter that he fell coming in, or that he’s wearing this ridiculous getup, because Bane is there. He’s there, and he’s waiting for John.

They’ve talked about this, and John mostly knows what Bane’s looking for, but it’s still a shock to hear the teasing in Bane’s voice when he speaks.

”Spring must be on it’s way.”

John swallows, watching Bane take him in in the window’s reflection. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’ve caught myself a robin.” Bane rasps, his eyes meeting John’s a second before John takes off through the apartment.

It’s dark and he doesn’t know the layout, so it’s not surprising that he doesn’t make it very far. Still, Bane is clearly playing with him, because John’s hand actually touches the knob on the front door before he’s jerked back and crushed against Bane’s broad chest. 

“You should not be here, little bird.” 

John melts against the rumbling of Bane’s chest before he remembers he’s supposed to struggle. He shoves back, trying to knock Bane off balance, but only succeeds in winding himself when his mountain of a boyfriend doesn’t budge.

“But you sent me such a pretty invitation,” John grumbles, trying to twist out of Bane’s grip.

“Hmm, whatever shall I do with my new pet?” Bane drags the grill of the mask along the back of John’s neck.

“I’m not your pet,” John spits, stamping down on Bane’s foot.

Bane’s grips tightens, choking the air out of John. “Not yet.” 

Before he can catch his breath, Bane slips a length of rope around John’s wrists, looping it twice and tying it off in the middle. It’s tight, tighter than he’s used to, but the rope itself is red and soft, though unused. John tilts his head back to meet Bane’s eyes when he realizes it’s not their usual one.

“For my little bird,” Bane whispers, and though the mask warps his tone, John can see the reverence in his eyes.

Bane uses the distraction to tie a lead to the wrist binding, wrapping the end around his own fist, like a leash. He pushes John away and he stumbles, falling to his knees.

“A good place for you,” Bane muses.

“Fuck you!” John spits, jerking forward when Bane tugs sharply on the lead.

“All in good time. First we must clip this bird’s wings.” Bane’s hands go to his belt, and though his mouth waters at the sight, John keeps his wits enough to protest.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to put that in my mouth and not bite it off,” John gulps when Bane pulls out his cock, already hard and glistening at the tip. John’s chest swells with pride, knowing it’s his own presence that’s turned Bane on.

Bane pulls him closer by the lead, John struggling until his arms feel like they’re going to pull out of their sockets. A circle of coiled rope falls over his head, tightening with a sharp jerk from a second lead. John gasps as his airflow is constricted, and he worries for a minute that he erection is going to burst through his shiny little shorts.

“I am confident this will keep you in line,” Bane tells him, testing out the tension of the new restraint. “You bite, and I pull. Either way, you will end choking on me.”

John moans, because if that doesn’t sound the best fucking way to go, he’ll eat his shoe. Bane switches the leads to one hand and strokes his cock a few times, sending precome trailing down the length. John licks his lips.

“You will do as I say, or you will regret it, is that understood?”

“I hate you,” John whispers, meaning ‘I love you’ in a way he knows Bane will understand.

Bane’s hand cups his jaw, thumb rubbing over John’s lips. “I know. Open.”

John presses his lips together so Bane has to shove his thick fingers in his mouth and pry it open, making things difficult, just because he knows Bane likes him that way. Bane’s fingers dig into John’s jaw as he lines his cock up and slides it in, an inch at a time.

John lets his jaw go slack as Bane uses the leads to pull him closer. He hisses when he hits the back of John’s throat, choking him. John fights his gag reflex, nuzzling his nose in the hair at Bane’s groin. Bane grunts and presses in further, cutting off John’s air and making his eyes water. Saliva pools and drips down his chin as he fights his panic. Bane pulls back, just as John starts to get dizzy, and stares down at him in wonder.

“Perfection,” he murmurs and shoves back in, setting a punishing pace until John’s a shivering mess, tears streaming down his face and gasping for more every time Bane gives him a second to breathe. He’s barrelling head first into subspace when Bane pulls out and steps back, giving the rope around John’s neck a warning tug when he tries to follow. 

Bane’s chest is heaving, and John worries for a minute that the mask might do more damage than good if Bane can’t get himself under control quickly. Bane’s eyes are wild, and John’s just about to safeword out when Bane shudders and his breathing evens out. He turns and stalks away, giving John just enough time to get to his feet before he’s pulled along after him.

Bane drags John into the bedroom, closing the door and pressing up behind him, his exposed cock nudging John’s lower back.

“What the fuck is this?” John rasps, his voice shredded from abuse.

Bane’s free hand pets over John’s vest, unclasping the buckles and lifting it over his head, careful of the ropes. Next, John’s utility belt is removed and tossed aside and Bane shoves him toward the bed.

“What are you going to do to me?” John demands, hopeful.

“The question, little robin, is what will you do to me?” Bane rumbles in his ear, making goosebumps rise all over John’s body.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“The only way out of here alive is to please me.” Bane strokes his hand over the front of John’s shorts, distracting him.

“Did-didn’t I just do that?” John pants, pushing into Bane’s hand as it kneads and caresses.

“Did I fill you with my seed and not notice?” Bane asks, giving John a squeeze so tight he squeaks. “If you wish to walk away with your life, it will cost you the use of my body.”

“I, ah, I’m not sure what that means.” John admits.

Bane chuckles and moves around him. He steps onto the bed, looping the lead for John’s hands over a hook in the ceiling, tugging John forward onto the mattress in the process, and coils it around the rungs of the headboard. John watches from his knees as Bane strips out of his clothing and circles the bed until he’s behind John again. Bane removes John’s boots and socks, dragging his fingers up John’s bare legs and sliding them under his shorts.

“You will use my body, little bird, until I am satiated.” Bane palms John’s ass roughly. “I will prepare you so that you may accomodate me,” the shorts are pulled down over his ass and Bane slides a dry finger over John’s hole, making him moan. “And then you will ride me until I am spent.”

The tip of Bane’s finger slips in, coarse and a little sharp, and John presses back into it. He could never take Bane without prep, but he likes a little pain with his pleasure when Bane is being careful.

“And if I can’t make you come?” John asks, breathless.

The fingers sinks in a little deeper. “Then you will not be set free.”

John takes a minute to breath and to appreciate the detail Bane has put into this scenario, just to please him. The finger in his ass slips out and he feels Bane straighten.

“John?” Bane asks quietly.

John tugs at the lead attached to his wrists, glaring over his shoulder at Bane. “What do I get if I make you scream my name?”

Bane shifts back into character, looming dangerously over him until he’s spread his bulk across John’s back, making him struggle to stay upright. “Then, little bird, you may have me anyway you like.”

John nods sharply and bends over, ass in the air. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

There’s a snick of the lube opening, then Bane’s finger slides back in, cold and impersonal, but at least it’s smoother this time.

“Hurry the fuck up,” John snaps after the finger’s pumped in and out roughly a few times.

Bane smacks him hard on the ass, giving John only a few seconds to register the sting before he shoves two fingers inside him all the way. A third finger is added a minute later, stretching John with a sharp edge that he pushes into. He’s just getting used to it when Bane pulls them out and walks away.

“What the fuck?” John twists his head to follow him as Bane settles at the head of the bed, cock flushed and slick, and tugs on the lead around John’s neck.

“You will see to my pleasure now, robin.” Bane says, smug.

John huffs, shuffling up the bed while trying to dislodge his shorts from his thighs. “A little help here?”

“No,” Bane purrs, and John just knows he’s laughing behind the mask. Well, two can play at that game. John tenses and spreads his legs quickly, ripping the flimsy cloth in two. Bane’s eyes go wide, and he sits up.

“I said I’d play along, not that I’d play nicely,” John tells him, throwing his leg over Bane’s and settling on his thighs. 

“I should have known,” Bane hums and settles back on the pillows.

“You really should have.” John gives him a sharp grin and slides forward, rubbing his cock against Bane’s.

Bane breathes in sharply, but doesn’t say anything so John does it again, slower and harder this time.

“That will not fulfill your requirement.”

“Don’t rush me,” John scolds, trying to figure out how he’s going to get Bane’s cock inside him without the use of his arms. He eyes the rope above his head, tugging a little against the tautness. He has some slack, but it’s attached firmly to the headboard so John wraps it around his wrists a few times and shuffles further up Bane’s body. He carefully scoots back, pushing against Bane’s cock until it’s firmly pressed between his ass cheeks, then he uses the rope to lift himself up, inch by inch, until the head of Bane’s cock is at his hole. 

His arms are shaking from holding himself up, but the look of pride and wonder on Bane’s face keeps him steady as he holds his gaze and slowly sinks down, impaling himself on the slick cock beneath him. He shudders out a breath once his ass is flush with Bane’s hips.

“I am impressed,” Bane tells him, voice tight.

John gives him a sharp smile and rocks forward slowly, clenching his muscles. Bane’s eyelids flutter and he nearly drops the lead.

“That’s what I thought,” John says, drawing up and dropping back down, relishing the huff of breath it draws from Bane. “Who’s in charge now, hmm?”

Bane’s eyes snap open and he pulls sharply on the lead, tightening the rope around John’s neck until he’s wheezing. John retaliates by going up on his knees until just the head of Bane’s cock is inside, and clenching as he sinks back down. Bane groans, his free hand going to John’s hip.

“Ah, ah, ah,” John scolds. “If you help me, how will I learn?”

Bane growls and pushes up, slamming into John and almost unseating him. John grips the rope harder, rolling his hips to meet the thrusts as Bane digs his heels into the mattress for purchase.

It doesn’t take long for Bane’s breathing to turn to panting, and John has to call his name a few times before he stops moving.

“You’re going to take in too much of the mask. Slow down and let me do the work. That was the deal, remember?”

Banes shakes his head, gasping through the mask.

“Yes,” John says sternly. “You’re going to lay there and let me make you come or I’m going to get up and leave. You’ll have to haul me back in here by the throat and I know you don’t want to do that. You want bruised, not damaged, right?”

Bane’s eyes are dilated and a little glassy, but he nods in agreement, deliberately slowing his breathing.

“Good. Now, grip the headboard and let me work. I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.” Bane’s growl is cut off when John starts moving, squeezing around Bane’s cock, and milking him in long, tight pulls.

Bane’s head falls back and the headboard creaks under his hands as John rides him. Sweat is beading at his hairline, and dripping down his neck, but he keeps up a steady pace, knowing Bane needs a slow build right now. He gets ahead of himself sometimes, and though John’s flattered by Bane’s appetite for him, the mask is a favour to John, and he doesn’t want Bane to regret it.

John leans forward, using the rope to keep him upright, and cries out when Bane’s cock hits his prostate. Bane starts thrusting again, driving right up into it, and John can’t fight past his own pleasure to tell him to stop. His orgasm is building fast, and when Bane bends his knees, supporting John’s position and giving himself some leverage, John knows he’s not far behind.

“That’s it, right there. Give it to me,” John pants, unable to take his eyes off Bane. His arms are above his head, the length of red rope leading to John’s neck wrapped around his forearm, and  _ fuck _ , his arms are amazing. John’s pretty sure they’re thicker than his own thighs, and he loves knowing Bane could pick him up and throw him across the room if he wanted to. Bane’s chest is broad and rippling with tension, fighting to keep his hands on the headboard and not take control like John knows he wants to.

John is so, so close. The cape is plastered to his back, and his hands are so sweaty inside the leather gloves, he could probably get out of his restraints if he really wanted to. He shouts when Bane’s hand wraps around his cock, jerking it roughly until John’s biting through his lip and spurting across Bane’s stomach. John clenches down, his orgasm rolling through him while Bane thrusts up, battering his prostate and prolonging the electric feeling coursing through him. Before John’s finished, Bane roars, his cock thickening and pulsing inside John as he comes.

As soon as he stops shaking, Bane unties John’s lead from the headboard, releasing his wrists and peeling off the gloves. He massages feeling back into John’s hands as he softens and slips out of John’s ass. John grimaces at the feeling of come dripping out of him.

Bane chuckles. “You love it.”

John scrunches up him nose and collapses onto Bane’s chest. “I love you, there’s a difference.”

Bane’s hand cards through his hair, wicking away the sweat. “And if I wanted to fill you with my seed? Plug you up in between taking you. Using it to slick your entrance as I claim you again and again?”

John shivers at the words. “I’d let you. You’re very spoiled, you know.”

“I am,” Bane agrees, lifting the cape to let cool air waft over John’s overheated skin.

“Whose apartment is this? We probably owe them some flowers or something. Maybe a new headboard.” John raises his head to frown at the indents left by Bane’s fingers.

“Maybe not,” Bane muses.

“What do you mean? You nearly broke the bed and put a hook in the ceiling. Unless the hook was already there, in which case, can we borrow it again sometime?” John grins.

“It could be our home, if you approve of it and will consent to living with me,” Bane says, formal and a little guarded.

John shifts up to lean over him. “Are you serious?”

“I am. I have already leased it. I may have added your name without permission.”

John laughs. “Of course you did. But really? You want me to live with you?”

Bane strokes a finger over John’s cheek. “I want you by my side always.”

John grins, kissing Bane’s finger when it slides over his lips. “I want that, too.”

“Then it’s settled?”

“Yes,” John kisses him. “But you have to break it to Bruce that I’m moving out.”

“Fine,” Bane resettles John against his chest. “But you have to tell Barsad.”

“Wait, what?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a mushy little epilogue because I couldn't get it out of my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe), who's had kind of a shitty week. Feel better!

**Epilogue**

John’s halfway across the kitchen and reaching for the door of the fridge when he’s scared badly enough to let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Howdy, stranger.” Selina drawls from her seat on the counter in front of him.

John raises his hand in greeting, still bent over and gasping from the shock. The last thing he expected to find in the dead of night while going for a glass of water in his boyfriend’s apartment is Selina Kyle perched on the counter, eating froot loops in nothing but a well-loved navy oxford.

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings.” She points out, spooning more cereal into her mouth.

“Yeah, thanks,” John pants, straightening up and reaching for a glass in the cupboard beside her head. “Wait, where did you get those? There’s never anything that sugary in this apartment. Bane makes me eat All Bran when I stay over.”

Seline smiles, cat-like and sly. “Contriband. I hid it in my purse.”

“Got any more?” John asks, hopefully. It’s nearly three in the morning, but suddenly eating sickeningly sweet breakfast cereal sounds like a great idea.

Selina tosses him a small box and John rips into it, not bothering with a bowl, or milk.

“Mmm,” he groans, crunching happily.

“Good, right?” Selina grins.

“God, so good.” They munch in companionable silence for a while until John realizes he had no idea Selina would be here.

“So, Barsad finally made his move, huh?”

Selina scoffs. “Hardly. I got tired of waiting him out.”

“For someone so terrifying, he’s surprisingly intimidated by you.”

“Can you blame him?” She tilts her head to the side.

John laughs. “No, I guess not. So, what finally did it? Was it the endless fawning over you, or the frankly disturbing smile he can’t keep off his face when you’re around?”

Selina keeps her eyes on her bowl. “He didn’t charge me for my new order.”

John frowns. “That’s it?”

Selina cocks an eyebrow in his direction. “John, do you have any idea how much a custom, handmade leather catsuit costs?”

“Um, a lot?”

“A lot,” she confirms. “I’m all for gifts from admirers, but I couldn’t accept that without a declaration of intent.”

“And I’m assuming he provided one.”

“He told me he wished to court me.”

“Geez, that’s practically an engagement ring from him.”

Selina smiles and sips the remaining milk from her bowl.

“So, is it serious?” John asks, knowing Selina’s history with men she considers her playthings and how gone Barsad must be to have actually brought her to the apartment. 

“Barsad’s a big boy, John, he can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, I know, but he doesn’t really date as far as I can tell.” John gives her a tight smile.

Selina purses her lips and drops her gaze. “Neither do I.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

John shoves the last of the cereal in his mouth and flattens the box to put in the recycling. He can deal with Bane’s scolding for eating pure sugar, but he’s not willing to face the wrath of Barsad if he disobeys the rules of the blue bins.

“Well, I should get back before Bane notices I’m gone.”

“I kind of though he’d keep you tied to the bed.” Selina teases, hopping off the counter and rinsing out her bowl.

John pauses at the kitchen door to look back over his shoulder. “He’s not the only one who knows how to tie a knot.”

Selina burst out laughing when John winks and pushes through the door.

“You’re cold,” Bane grumbles as John crawls back into bed.

“So warm me up.” John makes a pleased noise when Bane drags him closer.

“Why are you wearing clothing?” Bane asks, his hands slipping under John’s sweats to palm his ass.

“House rules, remember? Running into Barsad once in the nude is all the humiliation I need, thanks.” John thinks about Selina in the kitchen, sitting on the counter in Barsad’s shirt. “Hey, we should tell him when he gets up. About the move.”

“You think it is the right time?” Bane mumbles, drifting back into sleep.

John smiles as he hears footsteps in the hall and the sound of Barsad’s door opening. “Yeah, something tells me he’ll be in a good mood.”


End file.
